



















































































































































































Class ; E 1 i^Lj 
Book.. _ 


Copyright N° 


. 1926 


COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 


OPO 








THE 

COLUMBIA READERS 

SIXTH YEAR 


BY 


FREDERICK G. BONSER, Ph.D. 

w 

PROFESSOR OF EDUCATION, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 


AND 


LULU B. BECKINGTON, A.B. 

PUBLIC SCHOOLS, TULSA, OKLAHOMA 



MENTZER, BUSH & COMPANY 

Chicago New York Dallas 

























f E. 

n** 


Copyright , fry 

Mentzer, Bush & Company 
A ll rights reserved 


JUN24’26 

©Cl A8yi9C0 


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PREFACE 

The pupil in the primary grades is confronted in 
reading by a three-fold problem: (i) mastering the 
mechanics of reading; (2) getting the thought from 
the printed page; and (3) giving effective expression 
to his reading. 

Throughout the grades these three elements con¬ 
tinue to occupy the pupil’s attention, a gradually 
decreasing emphasis being required on the mechanic¬ 
al mastery and a gradually increasing emphasis 
being placed on the interpretation of the thought of 
the selection. 

In the sixth grade a pupil is required to read text¬ 
books containing a wide variety of material. In 
his outside reading he is interested in magazines, 
newspapers, and library books. To give the pupil 
training in methods of attacking and mastering 
these varied kinds of reading, the material included 
in this volume has been drawn from all of these 
sources. There are selections of unquestioned liter¬ 
ary merit; such as, “The Three Fold Destiny,” 
“The Village Blacksmith,” “The Jumping Frog,” 
and “The King of the Golden River.” Such selec¬ 
tions should be studied with care and interpreted 
orally. There are other articles; such as, “Origin of 
Weights and Measures,” “Interesting Words,” “The 
House Fly,” “Bees in the Hive,” and “Fire Fight¬ 
ing,” which are purely informational. Such selec¬ 
tions are designed to give training in securing 
information and are not embodied as literary models. 
Biography and current fiction drawn from children’s 
magazines also have a place in this reader. In 
choosing selections of current, fiction it has been the 


IV 


PREFACE 


object of the authors to embody not only interesting 
and entertaining material but also that which has 
ethical value for boys and girls of this grade. 

In using such diversified selections a pupil needs 
to know how to attack and organize each type of 
material. Among the methods used in this reader 
to assist the pupil in learning how to study are: pre¬ 
paring questions covering the significant points of a 
selection; outlining an article; using key-words to 
recall the material read; skimming an article to find 
definite points of information; learning how to use 
reference books; memorizing by the most economical 
method; arousing curiosity to stimulate the interest 
of the pupils, and taking speed tests. These methods 
and schemes are presented in directions to the pupil 
at the beginnings of the various selections where the 
pupil can read them and thus receive training in 
following directions. 

The authors wish to acknowledge their indebted¬ 
ness to Superintendent J. H. Smith of Aurora, 
Illinois, for his assistance in the collection, testing, 
and organization of the material for this reader. 
They are also deeply indebted to the various authors 
and publishing companies who have given permission 
for the use of their articles in this book. Specific 
acknowledgment is made in connection with each 
selection, usually at the close. 


INTRODUCTION 


The Purpose of These Readers. The Columbia Series 
of Readers is planned to afford an efficient means for developing 
ability and skill in both oral and silent reading. In almost every 
study in school and almost every important enterprise in life 
outside of school, success is contingent upon a mastery of 
silent reading—reading with clear comprehension and with a 
reasonably rapid rate of speed. In developing efficiency in 
silent reading, it is probable that very substantial aid is con¬ 
tributed to proficiency in oral reading, since rapid, silent com¬ 
prehension of thought gives added time for appropriate inter¬ 
pretation through oral expression. 

The Material. The material has been so selected as to 
provide instruction and practice in all of the kinds of reading 
common to the experiences of daily life. Attention has been 
given to the inclusion of material which is of immediate value to 
pupils in the kinds of reading required in the several school 
subjects, and for other problems related to school life. 

Methods of Using the Books. Probably the most effec¬ 
tive way in which to use the Readers is to keep them away from 
the children excepting during the periods of class work and 
specific study. For instructional and testing purposes, new 
material is somewhat better than that which is familiar. How¬ 
ever, if the books are owned by the pupils, they may be kept by 
them and the instructions and tests still used as indicated for 
each respective lesson. Because of familiarity, the scores may 
be a little higher than otherwise. But pupils whose interest in 
reading is such that they will read the selections in advance of 
class use will usually be found to score high, relatively, and to 
need less instruction in silent reading than others. 

The More Common Causes of Defects in Reading. 
When intelligence is not below average, backwardness in read¬ 
ing is more commonly caused by: 


VI 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Eye defects of various kinds, some of which may be remedied 
by proper diognosis and treatment. 

Bad habits of eye movements which may usually be cured. 

Speech defects which may affect both oral and silent reading. 
Most of these may be remedied. 

Neglect of comprehension in an overemphasis on the 
mechanics of word recognition and articulation. 

Neglect of the mechanics of word recognition and of ability 
to deal with new words in an attempt to gain the thought by 
rapid scanning, developing the habit of guessing and inaccuracy. 

Defects of association, either of associating sounds of words 
with their form, or of associating forms of words with their 
meaning. These defects are somewhat difficult to remove, but 
proper treatment patiently administered will usually bring 
favorable results. 

Most children, however, who read more slowly and with a 
poorer degree of comprehension than they should, do so either 
because of poor habits of eye control, or because of an over¬ 
emphasis or an under-emphasis of the mechanics of word 
recognition. Every child having any reading difficulty should 
have a careful, individual diagnosis made and be given appro¬ 
priate individual treatment. 

Increasing Speed in Silent Reading. When the particu¬ 
lar reading defect or defects of any child are found and the 
proper remedy applied, the response in an increased rate will 
usually be prompt and substantial. While each child with de¬ 
fects will have to be treated individually to some extent, there 
are also certain general appeals and instructions which will have 
a marked effect. Merely setting up speed as an end and 
emphasizing it will bring an increase. Rate drills which are 
provided in this book are a very effective means. Making in¬ 
dividual graphs and class charts showing speeds as revealed 
by tests at occasional intervals is a means of stimulation which 
is usually a strong factor in bringing about improvement. If 


INTRODUCTION 


vii 


word recognition is slow, some work in syllabication, phonics, 
and in the study of root forms, prefixes and suffixes may be 
effective in improving both speed and comprehension. Con¬ 
centration of attention, working under the pressure of time 
control, and reading much material that is well graded to one’s 
ability and interest are all helpful factors. Developing in the 
child a desire and a determination to read more efficiently is 
highly desirable and effective. 

Rates of Speed for Respective Grades. The approxi¬ 
mate average rates of speed for children who had not been 
trained for rapid, silent reading as found by Courtis, and for 
children who had been trained as found by O’Brien, are here 
given in words per minute: 


Grades 

Courtis—Untrained 

O’Brien—Trained 

4 

160 

2 36 

5 

180 

278 

6 

220 

2 93 

7 

250 

3 22 

8 

280 

393 


The variations from these averages are about twenty words 
above or below for the untrained, and about from seven to 
twelve words above or below for the trained. In a first test in 
schools in which no training has been given in silent reading, the 
approximate rates of the Courtis averages may be expected, 
while the O’Brien averages may well be thought of as represent¬ 
ing reasonable possibilities which may result from good training. 

Improving Comprehension. Establishing habits of rapid 
reading does not of itself increase the accuracy of comprehen¬ 
sion. To improve comprehension, emphasis should be placed 
upon reading with definite, conscious purposes. Among the 
purposes more commonly found, are reading to find answers for 
specific questions; to organize what is read in outline or sum¬ 
mary form for oral presentation; and to derive satisfaction, 
inspiration, and enjoyment from reading as the material makes 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


viii 

its appeal to interests and experience. Every selection in this 
book provides means for developing increased facility in com¬ 
prehension. Every subject in which reading is used presents 
the opportunity and the necessity for clearness in comprehen¬ 
sion. The encouragement of wholesome and varied home 
reading for pleasure, of related reading supplementary to text 
books in school subjects, and of frequent reports to one’s class 
on general and supplementary reading helps to increase accur¬ 
acy and depth of comprehension. Such work in word study as 
makes for quick grasp of meanings improves both comprehen¬ 
sion and speed. Familiarity with the more common root or 
stem elements of derivative words, and with prefixes and 
suffixes facilitates both recognition and comprehension. Im¬ 
provement in comprehension tends to an increase of speed, as a 
rapid grasp of meaning enables one to pass more rapidly over 
the connectives and other relatively subordinate words, filling in 
through a form of preperception, and thus successfully skim¬ 
ming the thought of meaning accurately without loss. 

Improving Oral Reading. One having no speech defects 
will usually read orally with about the same degree of excellence 
shown in his silent reading. Good oral reading requires all of 
the factors and processes of good silent reading with the addi¬ 
tional element of correct and effective expression through 
speaking. The comprehension must be sufficiently clear so that 
the meaning may be grasped and expressed at a rate at least as 
fast as one should speak in order to be clearly understood by his 
auditors. Increasing efficiency in silent reading is therefore a 
means by which oral reading may also be improved. In oral 
reading, however, such attention to expression is needed as will 
enable one to make his presentation pleasing and effective for 
his auditors. Making reports, presenting summaries or ex¬ 
tracts, and reading selections for the information, satisfaction, 
or enjoyment of others offer the occasions for attention to oral 
reading. If defects in articulation, in manner, in speed, in 
quality of voice, or in any other particular are evident in the 


INTRODUCTION 


ix 


oral reading of pupils, these should be made a matter of in¬ 
dividual study and improvement as needed by the respective 
children. 

The Use of Standard Tests. The scores for the material 
in these Readers are necessarily not standardized. Individual 
scores will therefore have to be estimated in relationship to 
class scores. In speed, however, comparison with the grade 
rates as indicated in a foregoing paragraph will offer a rough 
approximation of relationship to standard achievement. It will 
be well to give some established standard test in speed and com¬ 
prehension early in the school year, and to repeat this in three 
or four months and again near the end of the year. The pupils 
will then have a basis for comparing their own achievements 
more accurately with standards, and to determine their progress 
for the interval between such tests. 

Several different standardized tests in silent reading are 
available. The work in testing is growing increasingly refined 
and accurate. Tests having some advantage over those now 
available may be offered for general use before a given school 
has supplied itself with test forms. No particular tests are 
therefore suggested here. Instead, it is recommended that 
when the time comes to secure test materials, advice be asked 
of the Department of Educational Measurements of a School of 
Education or a Teachers’ College in one’s own state, or in some 
well known institution more distant. A request for information 
as to the best tests to use and where they may be secured will 
usually bring suggestions as to the most recent reliable material 
available. 

Teachers desiring to acquaint themselves more fully with 
what is known of the problems of the psychology and teaching 
of reading will find the following books scientific, readable, and 
helpful: 

Huey, Edmund B .—The Psychology and Pedagogy of 
Reading , The Macmillan Company, 1913. 


X 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


O’Brien, John A.— Silent Reading , The Macmillan 
Company, 1920. 

The Twentieth Year Book of the National Society for 
the Study of Education: Bart II—Silent Reading , 
Public School Publishing Company, Blooming¬ 
ton, Illinois, 1921. 

For individual pupils, there is much reason to expect that, in 
other school subjects in which reading is a prominent means 
of study, progress will be directly promoted by improvement in 
speed and comprehension in silent reading. This helps to im¬ 
press the fundamental importance of developing a high degree 
of efficiency in silent reading and to justify the effort and atten¬ 
tion required to achieve it. 


TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Speed Test No. i, 

The Discontented Pendulum. 3 

Speed Test No. 2, 

The Capture of Gulliver. 65 

Speed Test No. 3, 

The Cathedral Clock. 100 

Speed Test No. 4, 

The Good Saxon. 153 

Speed Test No. 5, 

The Pine Tree Shillings. 209 

Speed Test No. 6, 

The Fir Tree. 279 

Special Tests 

Relating Words. 6 

Classifying Words. 41 

Description. 52 

Word Opposites. 64 

True or False. 127 

Words Opposite in Meaning. 135 

Yes or No. 197 

Tests for Comprehension—Informational 

Huckleberry Molly, Le Roy . 7 

A Sperm Whale, Hammond . 19 

Sandy, Copp . 26 

When Naomi Played with Fire, Pettee . 42 

The Threefold Destiny, Hawthorne . 53 

Bees in the Hive, Buckley . 112 

The House Fly. 128 

Origin of Our Weights and Measures. 133 

Simple Outlining. 136 

James Watt—The Famous Inventor. 137 

Mozart—The Famous Composer. 142 

A Boy Who Used His Brain, Stuart . 146 

Government Bulletins. 179 

A—Fire Fighting D—Dry Powder 

Extinguishers 

B—Water E—Hand Grenade 

Extinguishers 

C—Chemical Extin- F—Fighting Wood Fires 

GUISHERS 

All Aboard for the Football Game. 188 

A Chaparral Prince, 0 . Henry . 221 






























COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


xii 

Word and Dictionary Study 

Vocabulary Study. 25 

A Boy Who Used His Brain. 146 

Interesting Words. .. 173 

Word Study Project. 176 

How To Use References. 177 

All Aboard for the Football Game, Bryan . 188 

Reading Aloud, Twain . 214 

A Chaparral Prince, 0 . Henry . 221 

Selections for Literary Appreciation 
(Prose and Poetry) 

’Tis Always Morning Somewhere, Longfellow . 41 

The Threefold Destiny, Hawthorne . 53 

The Village Blacksmith, Longfellow . 75 

John Gilpin’s Ride, Cowper . 102 

Paul Revere’s Ride, Longfellow . 167 

The Charge of the Light Brigade, Tennyson . 198 

The Jumping Frog, Twain . 214 

Gabriel Grub, Dickens . 234 

The King of the Golden River, Ruskin . 247 

(Poetic) 

The Village Blacksmith, Longfellow . 75 

It Couldn’t Be Done, Guest . 78 

Somebody’s Mother. 79 

A Legend of Bregenz, Proctor . 81 

John Gilpin’s Ride, Cowper . 102 

Paul Revere’s Ride, Longfellow . 167 

The Charge of the Light Brigade, Tennyson . 198 

Incident of the French Camp, Browning . 207 

Freedom is King, Emerson . 213 

Success 

Three Rules for Young and Old, Hale . 152 

A Message to Garcia, Hubbard . 201 

Worth While Sayings. 233 

Boy Scout Laws. 289 

First Aid for Injuries . 291 

Vocabulary Study . 25 


































TABLE OF CONTENTS 


xiii 

Learning to Read 

The Companionship of the Great. I 

Following Directions 

The Discontented Pendulum, Taylor . 3 

A Sperm Whale, Hammond . 19 

Sandy, Copp . 26 

Memorizing 

A Village Blacksmith, Longfellow . 75 

It Couldn’t Be Done, Guest . 78 

Somebody’s Mother. 79 

Patriotic and Historical 

Paul Revere’s Ride, Longfellow . 167 

When Naomi Played with Fire, Pettee . 43 

The Savages of North America, Franklin . 159 

Incident of the French Camp, Browning . 207 

Myths and Legends 

A Legend of Bregenz, Proctor . 81 

The Brothers, Old Legend . 87 

The Lorelei, Rutland . 94 

The Cathedral Clock. 100 

The King of the Golden River, Ruskin . 247 

Selections From Famous Literature 

’Tis Always Morning Somewhere, Longfellow . 41 

The Threefold Destiny, Hawthorne . 53 

The Village Blacksmith, Longfellow . 75 

John Gilpin’s Ride, Cowper . 102 

Paul Revere’s Ride, Longfellow . 167 

The Charge of the Light Brigade, Tennyson . 198 

The Jumping Frog, Twain . 214 

Gabriel Grub, Dickens . 2 34 

The King of the Golden River, Ruskin .. 247 

Anecdotes 

A Well Educated Gentleman Defined, Ruskin . 172 

An Anecdote For You To Tell. 187 


























































































* 





THE COMPANIONSHIP OF THE GREAT 

The radio of today permits us to hear great 
speakers, great musicians, our friends and our 
relatives at a distance. This is surely a wonderful 
privilege and we are glad to have such opportunities. 
Our companionship with the world is widened and 
our acquaintance with the great in all fields of 
activity is enlarged. 

There is another remarkable medium of com¬ 
panionship with the great, and one which has 
advantages over even so wonderful an invention as 
the radio. The radio enables us to hear only such 
persons as are alive at the present time and interest¬ 
ed in broadcasting, and we cannot always hear 
whom we wish to hear, but have to wait for a definite 
time for the companionship of the truly great. 

i 














2 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


This other source of companionship which is not 
thus hampered is that which is opened to us through 
reading. If we train ourselves to read well, we can 
hear the best thoughts of the best people at any and 
all times. The greatest minds of all ages are waiting 
between the covers of a book to commune with us, to 
help us to avoid the blunders which others have 
made, and to entertain us as the living great have not 
time to entertain us. They do not interrupt our 
activities but wait patiently for us to give them 
audience. Why should we waste our time in talking 
nonsensically with people who have little to talk 
about except the weather and gossip, when we can 
hear kings and queens, poets, novelists, statesmen, 
moral and business leaders, dramatists, and scientists 
talk to us, giving us ideas that are really worth while? 

You do not have to wait for a certain time of day 
to “tune in” as in the radio. All you have to do is open 
the book, tune your mind to the ideas of the author, 
and you may enjoy this superior companionship as 
long as you wish. 

Just as you have to adjust carefully your radio 
apparatus before you can catch the ether sound 
waves, so you have to adjust carefully your mental 
apparatus before you are able to catch the message of 
the author. Many persons do not enjoy reading 
because they do not know how to read and have 
never trained themselves to enjoy this fascinating and 
helpful pastime. If you start early to tune your 
mind so that it may catch the meaning found on the 
printed page, no one can ever shut you out from 
companionship with worth while people of all ages 
and places. You will have constant and helpful 
friends always ready to come at your bidding. 


THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM 


3 


SPEED TEST I 

To the Pupil: When your teacher gives you the signal, you 
are to start reading the story of the discontented pendulum, 
and read as rapidly as you can and still get the details of the 
story. When you have completed the reading, raise your hand 
so that your teacher may enter opposite your name the number 
of minutes taken by you in reading the story. 

To the Teacher: Place an alphabetical list of the pupils' 
names on the blackboard and as the pupils raise their hands, jot 
down by the name the nearest number of minutes (or minutes 
and quarter minutes) consumed in the reading. There are 
approximately 820 words in the selection and the rate of 
reading per minute may easily be worked out by each pupil 
or by the group under your direction by dividing the total 
number of words (820) by the number of minutes (including 
fractional parts) required in each case. 

THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM 

An old clock, that had stood for fifty years in a 
farmer's kitchen, without giving its owner any cause 
of complaint, early one summer’s morning, before the 
family was stirring, suddenly stopped. Upon this, 
the dial plate (if we may credit the fable) changed 
countenance with alarm; the hands made a vain 
effort to continue their course; the wheels remained 
motionless with surprise; the weights hung speech¬ 
less; and each member felt disposed to lay the blame 
on others. At length the dial instituted a formal 
inquiry as to the cause of the stagnation, when hands, 
wheels, weights with one voice, protested their 
innocence. 

But now a faint tick was heard below from the 
pendulum who spoke thus: “I confess myself to be 
the sole cause of the present stoppage; and I am 
willing, for the general satisfaction, to assign my 


4 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


reasons. The truth is, that I am tired of ticking. 
Upon hearing this the old clock became so enraged 
that it was upon the very point of striking. “Lazy 
wire!” exclaimed the dial plate, holding up its hands. 

“Very good!” replied the pendulum;“It is vastly 
easy for you, Mistress Dial, who have always, as 
everybody knows, set yourself up above me,—it is 
vastly easy for you, I say, to accuse other people 
of laziness! You, who have had nothing to do all 
your life but to stare people in the face, and to amuse 
yourself with watching all that goes on in the kitchen. 
Think, I beseech you, how would you like to be shut 
up for life in this dark closet, and to wag backward 
and forward year after year, as I do?” 

“As to that,” said the dial, “is there not a window 
in your house on purpose for you to look through?” 

“For all that,” resumed the pendulum, “it is very 
dark here; and although there is a window, I dare not 
stop even for an instant to look out at it. Besides, 
I am really tired of my way of life; and, if you wish, 
Til tell you how I took this disgust at my em¬ 
ployment. I happened, this morning, to be 
calculating how many times I should have to tick in 
the course of only the next twenty-four hours; 
perhaps some one of you above there can give me the 
exact sum.” The minute hand being quick at 
figures, presently replied, “Eighty-six thousand four 
hundred times.” 

“Exactly so,” replied the pendulum. 

“Well I appeal to you all, if the very thought of 
this was not enough to fatigue any one; and when I 
began to multiply the strokes of one day by those of 
months and years, really it was no wonder if I felt 
discouraged at the prospect. So, after a great deal 


THE DISCONTENTED PENDULUM 


5 


of reasoning and hesitation, thinks I to myself, 
nistop.” 

The dial could scarcely keep its countenance 
during this harangue; but, resuming its gravity, thus 
replied: “Dear Mr. Pendulum, I am really astonished 
that such a useful, industrious person as yourself 
should have been seized by this sudden weariness. 
It is true, you have done a great deal of work in your 
time; so have we all, and we are likely to do; which 
although it may fatigue us to think of , the question 
is, whether it will fatigue us to do. Would you now do 
me the favor to give about half a dozen strokes to 
illustrate my argument?” 

The pendulum complied, and ticked six times at 
its usual pace. “Now,” resumed the dial, “May I 
be allowed to inquire if that exertion is at all fatiguing 
or disagreeable to you.” 

“Not in the least” replied the pendulum. “It is not 
of six strokes that I complain, nor of sixty, but of 
millions.” 

“Very good,” replied the dial, “but recollect that, 
although you may think of a million of strokes in an 
instant, you are required to execute but one; and 
that, however often you may hereafter have to swing, 
a moment will always be given you to swing in.” 

“That consideration staggers me, I confess,” said 
the pendulum. 

“Then I hope,” resumed the dial-plate, “that we 
shall all return to our duty immediately; for the 
maids will lie in bed if we stand idling thus.” 

Upon this, the weights, who had never been ac¬ 
cused of light-conduct, used all their influence in 
urging him to proceed; when, as if with one consent, 
the wheels began to turn, the hands began to move, 


6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


the pendulum began to swing, and, to its credit 
ticked as loud as ever; while a red beam of the 
rising sun that streamed through a hole in the 
kitchen, shining full upon the dial-plate, it brighten¬ 
ed up as if nothing had been the matter. 

When the farmer came down to breakfast that 
morning, upon looking at the clock, he declared 
that his watch had gained half an hour in the night. 

—Jane Taylor. 


RELATING WORDS 

Write your name on the first line of your paper and your 
grade on the second line. Below are six groups of words. You 
are to select from each group the words that are related in 
meaning. 

The first group at the bottom is a list of tools with one word 
that is not related to the list. Top in the first line is not related 
to other words in the group. Write saw, hammer, rule on third 
line of your page. Do the same for each group. 

1. Saw, hammer, top, rule. 

2. Corn, potatoes, hoe, peas. 

3. Horse, cow, man, pig. 

4. Iron, zinc, wood, copper. 

5. Sky, air, wind, automobile. 

6. Men, women, forest, children. 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 


7 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 

The person who gives the name to this story is an Indian 
woman who lives in the Northwest and gets her name from the 
fact that she gathers and sells huckleberries or blueberries. 
Like the Indians as a whole, she seems to have the ability to 
predict or foretell coming events in nature. In this case she 
is alarmed about the possible sliding down the mountain side 
of the ice and snow that has gradually become packed into 
a huge mass, almost a mountain in itself. 

Read the story rapidly but carefully. Be able to answer 
the questions found at the end, looking back when necessary 
to make sure that your answers are correct. 

Huckleberry Molly trudged up the steep path 
to the little house at the foot of the mountain. The 
long basket on her back, partly supported by the 
band of cloth that crossed across her forehead, was 
half full of huckleberries. As she sank down wearily 
on the top step, she slipped the heavy basket from 
her shoulder. 

Alice Gordon came out on the small porch. Her 
cheeks were flushed and there were berry stains on 
her apron. The pleasant odor of boiling fruit came 
from the house. 

When Alice saw Huckleberry Molly, she frowned 
a little. At times, Alice, in common with some of her 
neighbors, got a little tired of Molly’s visits; but 
the girl’s natural kindness of heart always came to 
the top, as it did now. 

“My, you’re tired, aren’t you, Molly?” she said. 
“And it’s so warm. How far have you carried that 
heavy basket?” 

Molly smiled up at her. “Eight—nine mile today, 
over on Pine Mountain. Huckleberries thick over 
there. You want some more ?” 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Alice Gordon considered. “Well, I’ve got sixteen 
quarts put up already. That ought to be enough with 
the rest of my fruit.” 

Without a word, Huckleberry Molly reached for 
her basket and began to slip the supporting band 
around her forehead. 

“Wait!” said Alice. “I think I will take them, 
Molly. Til get a pan and you measure them out. 
How much are they now?” 

“Two bits quart. Me give you big quarts, you 
good to me long time.” 

When Molly had measured out the berries, Alice 
brought her some cool lemonade and something to 
eat. The old squaw was plainly glad to sit on the 
shady porch and rest while she ate the luncheon. 
When at last she rose to go, she looked up at the 
towering peak of Old Eagle that reared its rocky 
summit a thousand feet above the house. 

“You stay here this winter?” she asked. “You 
live in this house?” 

“Why, of course! ”said Alice. “While my husband’s 
work is here we’ll live right here. This is our house.” 
She said it a little proudly as she glanced round at 
the porch and the bright little flower garden in front. 

“I like better you not live here this winter!” Molly 
muttered. “Heap snow! big, big snow—more than 
for long time. Me? I know—Injuns know ’bout 
big snow. Old Eagle slide—mebbe kill.” 

Alice Gordon laughed. “Mercy!” she said, “are 
you a witch, Molly? How do you know there’ll 
be big snow this winter?” 

“Injun buck kill bear last week—much fat, heap 
fat. Injun know. Can’t fool old Molly.” 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 


9 


Mumbling to herself, she shuffled awkwardly 
down the path. 

# When John Gordon came home from work that 
night, his young wife told him of Huckleberry 
Molly’s doleful prediction. 

“Well,” he said, “I guess if anyone knows, it’s an 
Indian. People up here say they never fail. Seven 
years ago was the last big snow—more than twenty 
feet deep on the level.” 

Alice laughed incredulously. “How absurd! Why, 
twenty feet would be clear over the house.” 

“I should say so!” John Gordon replied smiling. 
“This house is only fifteen feet high. We’re likely to 
get snowed under if we stay here, but there’s no 
danger of Old Eagle’s sliding. There’ve been plenty 
of slides round here,—the railway knows all about 
that,—but Old Eagle has never slid. They say it’s 
too steep—the snow keeps sloughing off and doesn’t 
stay on long enough to form an avalanche. So don’t 
you worry, dear.” 

After supper they took the baby out on the cool 
porch, and sat in the dusk, swinging slowly in the 
hammock. The baby in his white nightgown was 
asleep on Alice’s arm. Their young hearts were full 
of content as they watched the stars come out one by 
by one in the small patch of sky over the high peaks 
around them. 

At first when the young railway man had brought 
her to this wild, deep nook in the mountains, Alice 
had been filled with something almost like fear. 
From the pleasant, level stretches of southern Cal¬ 
ifornia, to which she had always been accustomed, 
to these deep, dark canons and towering crags of 
the High Cascades had been for her a marvelous and 


IO 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


not altogether pleasant change; but gradually she 
had become accustomed to the place, and had grown 
to love the great gray rocks and the hardy green 
ferns that grew round them, the swift cascades, 
from which the mountains got their name, and the 
wild, unconquered fierceness of it all. 

August with its hot, dreamy days melted into 
September and the smoky, hazy days began. Far 
off there were mountain fires. Some days the sun 
shone only as a yellow ball and at night the moon 
was red. Then October came and with it the flaming 
colors of changing leaves. Old Eagle was afire with 
red and yellow. 

Early in October Alice rose one morning, and, 
looking from her window, could not repress a cry of 
wonder and delight. Half way up Old Eagle the 
wonderful colors were suddenly blotted out by an 
expanse of glistening white. 

It was the first snow that Alice had ever seen, and 
for long periods that day she stood at the door and 
looked up at the mountain peaks. John enjoyed her 
childish delight in the spectacle. 

“It's come early,” he said, with a laugh. “Here 
it is only the seventh of October and the first snow! 
I guess Huckleberry Molly knew what she was talk¬ 
ing about, all right. It's likely to be a tough winter. 
The fellows down at the station say there'll be 
trouble a-plenty on the railway, just as there was 
seven years ago when not a wheel except the rotary 
snow-plough turned for a whole month.” 

Alice looked at him with shining eyes. “Oh,” 
she said, “what an experience! How glad I am 
there's to be lots of snow this winter! Think, John, 
I never even touched snow in my life!” 

October slipped into November. The days were 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 


short and dreary, and each brought either rain or 
snow. Early in December the snow began to fall in 
earnest. Flakes of almost incredible size floated 
down steadily all day and all night and all day 
again. Trains became irregular, and at last stopped 
running altogether. 

Six miles below the mountain hamlet, a freight 
train was stalled between two slides, and while 
standing there, it was caught by another slide and 
carried bodily down into a canon seven hundred 
feet deep. A few days later a mountain side 
covered with green timber tore down in an avalanche 
and wrecked a long bridge over a ravine. 

The railway men worked long hours and risked 
their lives every day. Accidents occurred but no 
fatalities, and the men unconcernedly went on keep¬ 
ing the road as clear as possible. 

In the little house at the foot of Old Eagle, Alice 
Gordon did not fear any danger. Her neighbors 
from the valley below often came up to see her, and 
they assured her that no house in the hamlet was 
safer than hers. Old Eagle had never slid—never 
would slide. 

Day by day the snow crept higher; it completely 
covered the windows and then the roof. John had 
cut a narrow passageway upward from the front 
porch so that he and his wife could go up to the sur¬ 
face by steep, hard-packed snow steps. 

People on snowshoes walked over one another’s 
houses and in some places over the snow-buried 
electric light wires. In the hamlet the long, covered 
snow shed that had been built years before for the 
children to use in going back and forth between 
home and school was in constant use. Leading off 
from it at intervals, were smaller sheds that connect- 


12 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


ed the various houses with that main artery of 
passage. Thus the women could visit one another 
without exposing themselves to the cold and the 
snow. Little by little, however, the snow sifted 
into the sheds through the openings that had been 
left for light, and in time you had to bend almost 
double in order to get through. Fortunately, the 
the little town was supplied with electric light; 
otherwise life in the darkened, buried houses, would 
have been much less endurable. No shed connected 
John Gordon’s house with the main artery, but there 
was a hard packed path that went straight from the 
steps in the snow to the nearest covered passageway. 

At Christmas every one of the twenty homes in the 
place had its own Christmas tree, and there were 
happy gatherings, good dinners and much laughter. 
Turkeys and chickens had been brought in on the 
rotary snow-plough and the one store of the village 
was well supplied with the necessary staples. There 
was no fear of famine as yet, but no one knew at what 
moment a slide more disastrous than the others might 
cut off the supplies from the outside. 

At last, a week or two after Christmas, the snow 
ceased falling and it began to rain. For two days 
rain fell without ceasing. A warm chinook wind had 
blown up from the south and the snow began to 
loosen on the mountain sides. The men in the village 
became anxious. More than one would have given 
much could he have sent his wife and children out of 
the place, but no trains had been running for three 
weeks. Several families had moved to the school- 
house to sleep; the seats had been taken up, and 
school dismissed until conditions should become 
better. 

Anxious eyes were lifted to Old Eagle, the tallest 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 


1 3 


and steepest of all the mountain peaks. But many 
sloughs and minor slides that occurred, renewed the 
feeling of confidence. Old Eagle could not slide. 

On the second day of the rain, Huckleberry Molly 
clambered awkwardly down the steep, narrow snow 
steps of the Gordon’s house. When Alice opened 
the door, the old squaw stood looking at her strange¬ 
ly*^ 

“You come!” she said. “Wrap baby. I carry. 
You get what you want—you come! Old Eagle 
going to slide soon—tonight—mebbe tomorrow— 
you come!” 

Alice stared at her. She refused to be alarmed; 
she even felt a little indignant with the old squaw. 

“Why, Molly,” she said, “I should say not! I 
guess my husband knows whether there is any 
danger. And baby is sick, too—he had a touch of 
croup last night before last. I shouldn’t think of 
taking him out in this rain. There isn’t a particle of 
danger. Everyone says Old Eagle is safe.” 

Huckleberry Molly listened patiently. Then she 
repeated stolidly, “You come. Old Molly know— 
Injun always know. You come. Old Eagle going 
to slide. Where your man?” 

Alice became angry. “Molly,” she cried, “I will 
not go! My husband would come and get me if 
there were any danger. He’s off on the snow-plough. 
He knows these mountains—he says Old Eagle is 
safe—they all say so.” 

Huckleberry Molly hesitated a moment, and then 
pushing her way into the house, asked, “Where baby? 
Go get blanket. I wrap him up—carry him. You 
come!” 

Alice Gordon was almost in tears with vexation. 


H 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“Molly/' she said “you go away! I promise you 
that if I hear any noise that sounds like a slide 
I’ll take baby and go. I'll run down through the 
snowshed." 

“You no hear slide—all this snow over house! 
Rain now—much rain make snow loose on Old Eagle. 
You come— please /" The Indian woman began to 
coax. “We go down to depot or somebody's house 
down there." 

“Molly, I tell you once for all— no! These other 
people who ran away from their homes—they're 
afraid! I'm not afraid! I shall stay here!" 

Without a word Huckleberry Molly gathered her 
blanket close round her and went out. 

That night at eight o'clock when John Gordon 
should have come home, Alice went to the door; she 
thought that she would go up and watch for him. 
She opened the door and gave a low cry of horror. 
Before her rose a solid mass of frozen snow: the door¬ 
way was completely blocked. The snow had caved in 
and the rain had turned it to ice. 

For one moment her heart seemed to stand still; 
then it leaped violently. Trapped! It was utterly 
impossible to get through that wall of ice and snow. 
When John came, —so she tried to reassure herself, 
he would know what to do. He would break a way 
through that awful barrier and come to her and the 
baby down there under the snow. 

But suppose he did not come! Last night Andy 
McDowell had not come home, and his wife had 
walked the floor all night. It might be John's turn 
tonight to be out on the snow-plough—or something 
might have happened—a slide! 

She thought of Huckleberry Molly, and said to 
herself, “Oh, why didn't I go! Why didn't I go!" 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 


*5 


With her hands clasped together and her heart full 
of sudden panic, she walked up and down the room. 
Laddie, the big collie, evidently sharing her ex¬ 
citement, stalked beside her. She imagined that she 
heard a queer, muffled noise—a sliding, rumbling 
sound that meant—that could mean nothing but 
death! 

Suddenly she became aware of a rasping sound 
outside. John! John digging his way in! Flinging 
open the door she cried out, but only the rasping 
sound answered her. Suddenly, as she watched, with 
dilated eyes two fists broke through the crust of ice 
and snow and in a moment Huckleberry Molly had 
forced her way through the wall. 

This time she did not stop to talk. Her big, coarse 
hands were cut and bleeding, but she took no notice. 
She shuffled into the bedroom and catching up the 
sleeping baby, wrapped him in his blankets. His 
little fair head drooped sleepily upon her shoulder 
and she lifted a fold of the blanket and covered it. 
Then she pointed to a heavy coat that hung on the 
wall. 

‘Tut on!” she ordered. “Your man—he no come 
home tonight—heap big slide—snow-plough no can 
come back. You come now.” 

Mechanically Alice put on the big coat and wound 
a scarf round her head. Huckleberry Molly looked 
around. “Money? You got money? You take 
’em. Take clothes for baby-—hurry!” 

As in a dream Alice Gordon obeyed. She called the 
big collie, and lighted a lantern. Then the strange 
little procession started. Huckleberry Molly carried 
the bundled sleeping baby on one shoulder and the 
lantern in her other hand. Alice followed with a suit 
case hastily stuffed with clothes for the baby, 


16 COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 

Behind them came the dog. Somehow they clam¬ 
bered up to the level and out into the open. Ahead 
of them a short distance was the entrance to the 
snowshed. Alice looked round. The rain had ceased. 
All the yorld, apparently, was one great expanse of 
snow. Not a house roof was visible! And overall, 
high and menacing, towered Old Eagle! 

Suddenly panic seized Alice. It seemed to her 
excited fancy that she could see something moving, 
far up there under the pale light of the moon. 
Everything was still, but she imagined that she heard 
a distant muffled sound. 

“Oh, hurry! hurry! ”she cried to the dark figure 
before her. 

Crouching low, they entered the mouth of the 
long snowshed, which the lantern feebly illuminated. 
Several times Alice, less sure-footed than the old 
squaw, fell into the snow that banked the narrow 
path. The baby woke and cried. A projecting 
shelf of snow along one side had struck him in the 
face. To the frightened girl the quarter of a mile 
that they slowly traversed in the dark, low shed 
seemed interminable. 

At last Huckleberry Molly turned into a side 
passage that led from the main shed. A gleam of 
light shone through the cracks round a door, and 
the squaw stumbled toward it. The baby still cried 
and Alice was calling: “O Mrs. Maloney, open the 
door! Open the door!” 

The door was at once flung open and a broad, 
good-natured Irish woman looked out. “My soul, 
’tis Mrs. Gordon!” she cried. “Come in! Come in!” 
She caught the baby from Huckleberry Molly’s arms 


HUCKLEBERRY MOLLY 


J 7 


and cuddled him against her motherly shoulder. 
Then she reached out and pulled Alice into the warm 
kitchen. 

“Come in, Molly, you too!” she cried. “Now, 
then, what does it mean?” 

Alice told her. “My soul alive!” cried Mrs. 
Maloney, “I thought there wasn’t a livin’ soul up 
on the hill tonight. I heard you had left and—” 

Mrs. Maloney broke off and held up her hand. 
“What’s that? Hark! ’Tis a slide somewhere!” 
she cried in great excitement. “I know the sound. 
I was here seven years ago. Listen!” 

A long, low, rumbling, sliding, grinding sound came 
dully to their ears,—a vibration, a roar,—an ever- 
increasing volume of sound that finally died away 
into silence. 

The next morning John Gordon, haggard from 
lack of sleep and filled with terror at the thought of 
what might have become of his wife and child, came 
up from the station where he had heard the news, 
and walked into Mrs. Maloney’s kitchen, never 
thinking to knock. He held his wife and baby in his 
arms and looked at Huckleberry Molly, who was 
sitting beside the stove. 

“It’s all gone, little wife,” he said. “There’s 
nothing left—everything buried under tons of snow 
and rock. But I never was so happy in my life. At 
the end of the week a train’s coming through and 
I’m going to take you and the baby out until spring. 
If you had stayed in the house ten minutes longer—” 

He left the sentence unfinished, and shuddered at 
the thought that filled his mind. 

Alice went over to the stove and put her arm 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


around the Indian woman’s shoulders. “I’d be there 
—now—if it hadn’t been for Molly. She—she—” 
Huckleberry Molly’s small, black eyes shone and 
her swarthy cheeks glowed. “You good to me long 
time,” she said, with a wide gesture. “Me? I good 
to you little short time. Ugh! Nothing much.” 

“Come, now,” broke in Mrs. Maloney. “Look at 
this smokin’-hot breakfast. Sit up to the table, 
ivery one of you, and thank heaven you’re alive to 
eat me good griddlecakes!” 

—H. C. LeRoy 

Courtesy of The Youth's Companion, 


SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 

1. How much is “two bits ? ,r In what section of our country 
is this expression used most? 

2. What incident did Molly relate to prove her belief that 
a severe winter was coming? 

3. What is meant by “a doleful prediction ?” 

4. What is an avalanche? What causes it to slide down the 
mountain side? 

5. Where had Alice lived before she came to her present 
home? What makes you think so? 

6. How did Huckleberry Molly prove herself a real heroine? 

7. What simple act of Alice Gordon’s at the close of the 
story shows how much she thought of the Indian woman for 
her heroic act. 

8. Can you think of any instance in which someone that 
you know of or have read about has repaid a friend for a kind¬ 
ness by an heroic act? 


A SPERM WHALE 


l 9 


A SPERM WHALE 

To the Teacher: Before having the pupils read the 
following selection have the class or some individual members 
of the class look up the subject of whales and have them report 
on such items as: habits of whales, their abode, size, method 
of capturing, products derived from whales, and the value of 
the whale industry. This will make the story more interesting 
and clear to the pupils so that they may read it more rapidly and 
intelligently. 

To the Pupil: Have you ever read an account of the cap¬ 
ture of a whale? If so, compare it with this one. The seaman's 
peculiar language makes this account seem very real and adds 
much to our interest in the story. Note especially the abrupt 
ending—true to the seaman’s style. 

A light breeze stirred the ocean round the small 
bark as she sailed slowly on her course in the South 
Seas. On the little crossbars at her foremasthead 
stood a young fellow who wearily scanned the sea as 
he waited for the tap of the bell that would announce 
the end of his two-hours' watch. 

But suddenly his listlessness vanished. 

“Hello!" he cried aloud. “What was that?" 

Something out across the water had flashed or 
splashed or jumped or done something. With strain¬ 
ing eyes the boy peered here, there, this way, that 
way. The bell below sounded, but he paid no heed 
to it. 

“Jack! Jack! Jack! Be yeh deef, or what in 
thunder ails yeh, up there?" 

The relief, standing on the deck below, had become 
impatient. 

Jack's answer was an exultant shout. 

“There she breaches! There she breaches!" 


20 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“Where away?” bawled the captain. 

“Right ahead, sir.” 

“How far away?” 

“Much as five miles, I guess, sir.” 

The crew crowded to the rails and stared across the 
water. But five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and 
nothing disturbed the surface of the ocean. 

“Aw! T’wan’t nothing” said the mate on the 
mainmast to Jack. “Yeh jes’ thought yeh seen 
suthin’.” 

“I saw it, all right hiough!” Jack cried. “There! 
Thar blows!” 

There was no mistake about it now. From all 
sides came cries of “Thar she blows!” “There she 
blows?” “Thar blows!” according to the taste of the 
crier. A puff of something that looked like steam had 
risen a few feet above the water and melted away; a 
glistening body had appeared for a moment and gone. 

“It's a sperm whale, sir!” announced the mate. 
“An ol’ rouser, too!” 

“Man the boats, here!” the captain shouted. 

In an instant Jack came sliding down the foremast 
to the deck and rushed to the mate's boat, which still 
swung from its davits. 

“Tumble in, Jack” said the mate. “Lower away, 
now!” 

The boat dropped and rested on the waves. 

“Get away, boys!” 

The five lusty young fellows bent to their oars, 
and they were off for the whale. 

The water danced and gleamed behind them as, 
tugging, tugging, tugging at the heavy sweeps, they 
raced with the two other boats. Standing at the 


A SPERM WHALE 


21 


stern with the big steering oar, the mate stared 
eagerly ahead and looked round for the other boats. 

At last, casting away his quid nervously, he gave 
his oar a sudden twitch. “That’ll do. Take y’r 
paddles,” he whispered. 

As Jack shipped his oar and turned toward the bow 
with his paddle, there rose from the water, directly 
ahead and scarcely fifty feet away, a big black mound 
that glistened brightly in the sunlight; an instant 
later the head of an enormous whale appeared. With 
a sound like that made by steam escaping from an 
engine, a heavy jet of vaporous spray came welling 
out of the top of the whale’s head. Then they saw 
the great creature sink slowly from sight. 

“Hold’er, boys!” The mate still spoke in whispers. 

Holding their breaths involuntarily lest they 
should frighten the animal, the men dipped their 
paddles noiselessly to check the progress of the boat. 

A moment later the black mound, followed a 
second later by the head, again rose. The great 
creature, which had been gliding gently toward them, 
seemed about to turn away. 

“Gi’me steerage, boys,” whispered the mate; and 
as the others' dipped their paddles cautiously, he 
guided the boat toward the whale. 

As yet the animal was unaware of the presence of 
the boat. As long as the hunters should remain 
silent and directly ahead of him, he would continue 
unaware of his danger; for his little eye, deep down 
and far back on the side of his head, could see neither 
in front nor behind. 

“A little harder, boys,” ordered the mate. 

As the men bore more strongly on their paddles, 
they made a slight ripple that reached the whale. 


11 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


The creature raised his head two, three, six feet, but 
still he did not see his pursuers. Presently his head 
slumped back, and the boat glided silently alongside. 

“Give 'er to ’im!" 

At the mate's triumphant shout the boatsteerer in 
the bow drove his two harpoons into the black side. 

“Stern! Stern all!" 

As each man struggled to send the boat back from 
the whale, the flukes flashed into the air fully thirty 
feet above the boat, and an enormous brownish 
body went gliding down into the depths. Rainbows 
shone and danced as the spray descended in showers, 
and the whale line went spinning round the logger- 
head, thence on, the length of the boat, and out 
through the chock into the depths. 

“Nip ’er! Nip ’er there, Jim!" cried the mate. 
The bow oarsman tried to check the whizzing 
line with the canvas nippers; but the line was running 
too swift and strong, and an instant later the mate 
bawled, “Let ’im go!" 

Down, down, down went the line, hissing and 
smoking as it passed round the loggerhead. 

“Douse the line a bit, Jack," said the mate; and 
the boy dashed water on the line as it ran. 

With lightning-like rapidity the line ran out and 
out and out. The bottom of the last tub was barely 
covered with line now, and the boatsteerer stood 
ready to drop the little buoy, which was fast to the 
end of it, over the bow, when the speed slackened 
and he managed to apply the nippers. 

The other boats had come up by this time, and 
together they waited for the whale to reappear. 
Minutes followed minutes until an hour had passed 
and still the whale did not show himself. Meanwhile 


A SPERM WHALE 


23 


the men pulled and hauled, gradually gathering and 
coiling the line in the boat as the animal in his 
wanderings came nearer and nearer to the surface. 

“There he is!” 

Less than a hundred feet from the boat a black 
head had come noiselessly from the water, and was 
rising cautiously and slowly until it towered at least 
twenty feet above the surface of the sea. The head 
turned until the small eye, just above the surface 
of the water, was fixed on the hunters. For some 
seconds the head stayed there, gaunt in its outline, 
while the animal surveyed his enemies. 

“That ol’ feller means mischief, sir,” the boat- 
steerer declared. 

“Stand ready, boys,” said the mate; and the men 
took their oars ready for emergencies. 

While the whale still lay high, his long under jaw 
dropped almost at right angles with his body, dis¬ 
playing long rows of ivory teeth, white and polished, 
that stood out several inches from the gum and that 
were hooked slightly backward. Then he shut his 
mouth with a snap and slowly sank into the water. 

“Pull ahead, boys!” shouted the mate. 

The boat sped rapidly ahead, and an instant later 
the black head of the whale rose in the place where 
the boat had been. With a great lunging leap, the 
creature shot almost clear of the water. 

The roar of the second mate’s whale gun now 
resounded as he sent a bomb straight into the side of 
the animal. Down beneath the surface slumped 
the whale, impelled by the weight of his falling 
body; and for a moment the hunters thought that 
he had received the fatal wound. But the creature 
again rose and, sending the white foam on either side 
of him, rushed for the third mate’s boat. 


24 COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 

Two more reports rang out from the guns of the 
first and second mates. Again the whale slumped 
down, so close to the third mate’s boat that he 
actually grazed the craft in his descent. He was out 
of sight for a moment; then, some distance from the 
boat he had so nearly missed, his hump appeared 
just above the surface of the water. The whale lay 
there quite still; but the men could see the water 
ruffled and in commotion far behind the hump as 
the whale, feeling, for something to hit, moved his 
flukes this way and that. 

‘Tull ahead, boys!” commanded the mate, and his 
boat shot toward the waiting animal with the boat- 
steerer now in the stern. 

“Stern! Stern all!” 

The boatsteerer’s face was white with terror as he 
screamed the order. The next instant there came a 
report like that of a cannon, followed immediately by 
a great swashing of water round and over the boat. 
The whale had lifted his flukes clear of the water 
and brought them spanking down almost upon the 
boat. As his huge brown hulk glided swiftly by, the 
mate’s gun again roared forth. 

That time a quivering wave seemed to pass the 
length of the gigantic monster, and, instead of again 
slumping down and out of sight, he seemed suddenly 
to rise a foot or two. The men knew then that the 
death wound had been given and that the beast 
would not again deliberately chase the boats. 

For an instant the whale sank once more beneath 
the water, not quite out of sight this time; then 
suddenly he rolled until he lay with the silvery gray 
surface uppermost, but only for a.moment. Although 
the animal was fully eighty feet long, with flukes 
little less than twenty feet from tip to tip, he sudden- 


A SPERM WHALE 


25 


ly gave a great jerking bound that sent him sidewise 
entirely clear of the water. 

He came down with a terrific splash, and before he 
was quite submerged, went rushing away in an ir¬ 
regularly circuitous course. Tumbling and thrashing 
about, standing now on his head and now on his 
flukes, sending the ocean skyward in sparkling, 
hissing, swashing, sunlit foam, he sped on until with 
one more mighty throe he leaped again into the air 
and fell back dead. 

“What’ll he make?” 

“A hundred barrels.” 

—T. W. Hammond. 

Courtesy of The Youth's Companion 


VOCABULARY STUDY 

A synonym, as you know, is a word that has a meaning 
similar to that of another word; such as, silent , speechless , dumb. 

The following expressions are taken from the story of a 
Sperm Whale and you are to fill in a synonym for each word in 
italics, making the reading as smooth as possible when you 
substitute the meaning for the word given. 

1. A breeze stirred round the small bark. 

2. A young fellow wearily scanned the sea. 

3. Suddenly his listlessness vanished. 

4. Jack’s answer was an exultant shout. 

5. The boat still swings from its davits. 

6. He would continue unaware of his danger. 

7. He did not see his pursuers. 

8. The men took their oars ready for emergencies. 

9. The whale went rushing away in an irregularly circuitous 
course. 

10. With one more mighty throe he leaped into the air and 
fell back dead. 


i6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


SANDY 

As you read this interesting story of a dog, jot down a word 
here and there which will assist you in recalling the story. Be 
able to tell the story after you have finished reading it. 

Keep the following questions in mind and answer them 
after you have read the story. 

1. Who is the person telling the story? 

2. How do you think Sandy was injured in the chase of the 
coyote ? 

3. How would you have found out for certain whether 
Sandy was killing the sheep, without actually watching him 
all night? 

4. Why did Sandy regain his courage and fight the wolf 
after having acted so cowardly? 

5. How did the fight with the wolf help Sandy in his attack 
on Brutus? 

My home is on a ranch in the San Joaquin Valley— 
fourteen thousand acres of hill and valley land which 
give plenty of room for my stocky, brown-faced, out- 
of-doors nephew to wander about in when he comes 
at vacation time. Billy comes accompanied by 
Sandy. 

I liked the appearance of Sandy from his birth— 
an active, spunky, little pup with tan and white 
markings. And he grew to be an intelligent, speedy, 
strong-looking dog, with long rangy body and slender 
legs. 

If it weren’t for the coyotes that steal my chickens 
and lambs I don’t suppose I should have much need 
for dogs; but as these wild pests make regular raids 
on the flocks, I have a pack of nondescript huskies to 
drive the marauders away. 

“I don’t know, Bill,” I began doubtfully, “whether 
Sandy will fare well in that savage crowd or not; 
they’re out-of-doors dogs.” I had imagined that 


SANDY 


27 


Sandy had been petted a great deal since his puppy- 
hood days. 

“Don’t worry for Sandy,” Billy proudly spoke up. 
But I had misgivings. 

And with the first meeting of Sandy and Brutus I 
knew that there was a rivalry. Brutus was the big, 
bristling, battle-scarred, slate-colored brute, partly 
great Dane, who had won the leadership of the pack. 
It was after a hunt and the pack of hungry, thirsty, 
wolf-like animals followed their big leader with 
tongues hanging dry. 

Brutus advanced cautiously to give close scrutiny 
to Sandy, growling ugly, short grunts as he did so. 
Sandy stood dignified and silent, a beautiful creature 
groomed to a fluffy freshness, all alertness and un¬ 
leashed speed, ready to meet the bunch on any terms 
they might demand. The rest of the pack stood 
back awaiting the decision of their chief. The big 
slate-colored dog smelled Sandy over to get him well 
catalogued in his mind. And the pedigreed dog 
patiently submitted, only taking a couple of quick 
sniffs at his inspector. Then both seemed to declare 
an armed neutrality and await the overt act. 

“They’re acquainted now, Bill, but watch ’em. 
Sooner or later they’re going to mix and you’d better 
call help when they do,” I said. 

“I’m not worryin’,” Billy answered. 

Then came the momentous day when Sandy ran 
with the pack. He was young, green, and impetuous. 
Billy and I stood on a hill back in the highlands and 
saw the scattered bunch in the canyon below when 
they raised a coyote from a small cluster of elder¬ 
berry bushes that stood at the lower end of the 
ravine. 

As I said, Sandy was green. In his inexperience 


28 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


he jumped into a long, steady stride in pursuit, 
forgetful of the strength to be gained by numbers. 
He was all eager to get near the quarry. He let out 
sharp, excited yelps. 

The other dogs bunched and ran as a solid phalanx, 
with the husky Brutus one leap ahead. They sang 
their hunt song. It was a deep-throated chorus. 

We enjoyed seeing Sandy let himself out, but it 
was an anxiety to think of what might happen when 
he overtook the coyote—that gray streak that flashed 
along the bottom of the wash with our Sandy rapidly 
gaining. 

I yelled at the dog, but he was so intent on his 
first chase that he did not hear. 

Then the coyote turned up the far side of the 
canyon and slid in among the manzanitas to be lost 
to our view. Sandy was close. The pack, slow but 
sure, was a hundred yards to the rear. 

“He’ll be all right, Bill, if he doesn’t get too anxious 
when the varmint stops running. If only he waits for 
the pack, he’s going to come out fine.” 

However, it was up to Sandy. 

And a couple of hours later when the pack came 
into the home ground, Sandy was not with them. 
The leader had a sort of a hang-dog look about him 
like a boy who’s been sent home from school early 
and doesn’t want to tell why. I suspected treachery. 

Billy, the overseer, and I started out to find 
Sandy. We came upon him about half a mile from 
the corral. He had not stopped when the coyote did. 
He had not respected those sharp teeth. The 
coyote had done damage. 

A sadly wounded Sandy was bravely pawing his 
painful way over the ground with forelegs only. 


SANDY 


29 


His hind legs were both out of commission and one 
side was cruelly gaping open. But not a whimper 
did he let out. He seemed to me to be past recall. 
The overseer thought the same and ,drew his gun. 

Billy, kneeling, took the dog's finely shaped, white- 
starred head in his arms. There were tears in all 
our eyes. The dog looked up in a pleading manner 
as if asking, “Please help me!" 

“Better end it!" I said to the overseer. 

“Sure," he gulped, wiping the mist from his eyes 
so that he could see to shoot. 

“Let me take him a minute, kid," the man said in 
a soothing tone, placing his hand on Billy’s shoulder. 

Billy saw the gun. 

“No!" he declared stoutly. “You’re not going to 
shoot my dog. He’s mine! I won’t have him shot. 
Uncle Jack, don’t let him do it," Billy pleaded. 

Sandy, sensing something wrong in our attitude, 
added his bit in the look that he gave me. After 
that I couldn’t order him shot. 

“All right—let him be!" I said to the overseer. 

“But he’ll never be any good now!" the man 
protested. “We always shoot a dog that gets side- 
lashed by a coyote. He loses his nerve. He’s no 
good." 

“I don’t believe it," defended Billy. 

“We’ll take him in," I said. That settled it. 

We carried him home on an improvised stretcher 
of branches torn from the sagebrush. Billy and I 
did the surgical work with sheep dip as an antiseptic, 
a sail-maker’s needle and some fiddle strings. Sandy 
licked my hand as I sewed him up and didn’t whine 
once. 


30 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


I was all for Sandy after that bravely stood opera¬ 
tion. 

In a week he regained the use of his hind legs and 
it was impossible to keep him as quiet as we thought 
he should be. We stood watch over him. But ten 
days after his accident, when I was gone for a moment 
from the kitchen where we had him bedded, he got 
up and, the back door being open, he must have 
crawled out. For he had disappeared. 

We mourned Sandy. It seemed impossible that he 
could live in his weakened condition away from our 
protective care. 

Billy was disconsolate, and we all looked in every 
conceivable part of the ranch where we thought the 
dog could drag himself. But to no avail. We did 
not even find his body to give it decent burial. 

“Where do you suppose he could be?” Billy asked 
me despairingly a few days after the disappearance. 

“I couldn’t say, boy!” I answered. “In all 
probability he is dead by this time and as the hills 
are full of coyotes, he would need no burial.” 

Billy turned away quickly—I guess it was because 
he had tears in his eyes and didn’t want me to see 
them. 

Then other affairs took my attention. The coyotes 
were becoming more bold, so the pack of dogs was 
turned out every night to drive them away. And 
worse things happened, for sheep were found dead 
and half eaten. This had never happened to our 
grown flocks before. Some bolder marauder than 
any we had experienced before was decimating our 
flocks. One sheep would be missing every morning. 
The body would be found in a lonely brush-grown 
canyon where it had apparently been dragged. The 


SANDY 


3i 


carcass always showed the effects of some voracious 
animal's teeth. 

My overseer and I were at a loss to explain the 
cause. Coyotes we had with us always and expected 
their theiving raids on our chicken coops and among 
the lambs, but heretofore they had been driven off by 
the dogs before seriously injuring any of the large 
sheep. 

The pack was out at night. They went into the 
hills with joyous yelps. We had expected to find all 
our animals secure. But the annoying toll was reg¬ 
ularly taken from the flock of sheep. 

And the dogs, with tails between their legs, had 
come whimpering into their kennel in the early day¬ 
light. Two, the big leader and one other, were badly 
lacerated as if they had been in a losing fight with 
some very vicious enemy. All seemed cowed and 
afraid. I could not imagine what local species of 
wild animal could so subdue my whole pack of dogs. 
No mountain lion had been reported and the dogs' 
wounds did not come from tearing, sharp, cat claws. 

Then came the day, after a month of these sheep 
loses, when Sandy came back. His hair was caked 
with dried-on mud and he was very unkempt. Some¬ 
where he had found a mud hole. I did not know 
where. 

That was a day of great rejoicing, tender washing, 
currying and generous feeding of Billy's pet. Sandy 
showed his pleasure at sight of us by weakly trying 
to skip about, and he licked every attentive hand. 
He was nearly starved. 

A great scar ran from his right shoulder downward 
to his right hind quarter. It was where we had 
sewed him up. But the wound had healed well. 


32 COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 

However, the overseer cast many furtive, sus¬ 
picious glances his way. Finally he came to me and 
in a faltering manner, knowing the affection I had 
for the dog, he remarked, 

“Ah—I see Sandy’s back. Now about those sheep 
—you know collies sometimes go bad. Do you sup¬ 
pose Sandy—ah—now?” 

“Stop!” I said. “Take one look at the dog and 
forget it!” 

But I saw as the days passed that he did not forget 
it; he fingered his revolver in its holster with itching 
hand whenever Sandy came near. He thought 
Sandy was killing sheep. And like a horse thief on 
the range, bad sheep dogs are arbitrarily sentenced 
and summarily executed. 

The days of Sandy’s recuperation were a pleasure 
to us all for he was so appreciative. We finally had 
him all sleek and trim once more and seemingly fit 
as ever. But his appearance would never win him 
any blue ribbons, for the scar on his side was too 
vividly apparent. But he was our Sandy and we 
liked him. 

When the dog was himself once more, Billy wanted 
to take him back to the kennel and let him visit 
the pack. 

We went. It was evening. The hunter dogs had 
just come in. They felt good. Their chase must have 
been a success. As we neared the kennel, we could 
hear their victorious barks. Sandy heard. He acted 
strangely. He didn’t want to go on. His head 
hung low and his tail drooped. 

I was surprised for he seemed ashamed. Billy 
forced him to come along. 

We found the other dogs at their dinner. The 


SANDY 


33 


overseer was standing by. Brutus snarled and 
pawed his bone like a terrier worrying a rat. 

Sandy was dragged into the circle of husky brutes 
as they tore at their respective beef joints. 

_ They saw Sandy. His changed attitude from the 
dignified, calm, self-assured Sandy of old was notice¬ 
able. The dogs sensed the change. The whole pack 
lifted their heads and looked. Then the slate-colored 
leader, letting out a vicious snarl, made a jump at 
Sandy. The pack followed, closing in on the un¬ 
fortunate dog. 

“At ’em Sandy!’’ Billy commanded. But Sandy 
gave one pleading look at his master, then hung his 
head, tucked his tail between his legs, and ran. 

“Oh—oh—you coward!” Billy screamed after the 
fleeing dog. The overseer laughed. I looked on and 
made no comment. Billy was disgusted. He felt 
humiliated at Sandy’s action and the overseer’s 
laugh. 

Half the way up the hill on the way back to the 
house, we found Sandy waiting for us. 

With head groveling in the dirt and tail anxiously 
patting the ground he sidled up to his young master, 
his eyes pleading for favor. 

“Go way—you—you coward!” Billy commanded. 
His voice gave a hint of the chagrin he felt. 

But Sandy whined his plea to be understood. He 
edged up to Billy and licked his shoes. 

Billy raised his hand to strike the dog. I caught his 
wrist. 

“Don’t do that, Bill,” I said. “Sandy is ashamed 
—he’s lost his self-respect; help him get it back— 
don’t break his spirit.” 


34 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“He’s lost his nerve,” Billy cried. “He’s lost his 
nerve—he’s no dog of mine!” and the boy ran into 
the house. 

When he was out of sight, I stooped and patted 
Sandy’s head and talked gently to him. 

“Sandy,” I said, “you’re in a bad way. You’ve 
lost the respect of your master.” 

And I felt that Sandy knew what I meant for, 
looking up at me with pain in his gaze, he emitted a 
low howl of sorrow. 

After that Sandy and I were together most of the 
time. I had occasion to make trips out over the 
ranch, and invariably he would wait for me and follow 
my horse or ramble off on little excursions into the 
brush as I rode the hills or valley. 

Rabbits were his principal game, and whenever we 
raised one, I would send him after it. Sandy was 
the quickest dog on his legs that I have ever seen. 

He was very sensitive, and the indifference of his 
young master made him disconsolate. Billy would 
have none of him. 

One time as I came from the house, the overseer 
stood by the front door holding my horse. Sandy 
was on the grass plot beyond him, keeping at a 
respectful distance, for the dog sensed the man’s 
distrust of him. 

“Another sheep was killed last night!” the overseer 
told me and cast an accusing glance at the dog. 
“He was out all night,” he added, meaning Sandy. 

I looked at Sandy. I admit a faint suspicion 
entered my mind. Sandy was immaculate, but 
that might mean nothing for collies have been known 
to be exceedingly shrewd at washing off all incrimin¬ 
ating stains of blood after a murderous raid, 


SANDY 


35 


“You still think”—and I nodded toward the dog. 

“Absolutely!” the man declared, a gleam of an¬ 
ticipation coming into his eye and his hand seeking 
his holster as he saw that at last I had a suspicion. 

Billy came from the house carrying his little 
shotgun. 

“What’s that you said?” he asked. 

“Another sheep was killed last night,” the over¬ 
seer quickly told him. 

“I’ll go out and catch the murderer!” Bill 
dramatically exclaimed in play as he stalked off the 
porch like an egotistical country sheriff. We had 
not told him of the suspicions about Sandy. 

We laughed to see the boy go and at the con¬ 
fident manner in which he carried his small bore 
shotgun—“pop gun” the overseer called it. 

Sandy jumped up as Billy left the porch, and ran 
expectantly to his side to join in the hunt. “Go 
away!” Billy ordered in a contemptuous tone. 
Sandy went—head and tail drooped—hurt. Billy 
trudged off into the hills. 

“Well—” I hesitated. “I’ll watch the dog awhile; 
let him be till I feel more sure,” I said to the over¬ 
seer. 

I mounted my horse and calling Sandy rode away. 
I felt guilty to harbor doubts of the dog. But 
suspicious circumstances did point accusingly at him. 

My ride that day took in a circle of the valley land 
up a slope of the hills ten miles from the house and 
back along the crest ridge, overlooking the valley. 

Along about eleven in the morning I was up at a 
point a mile and a half from the house where two 
fences joined. It was on the ridge top between two 
canyons. One of the lines of fence held boundary to 


36 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


my hilly sheep land which extended back toward the 
house and enclosed numerous small fertile valleys 
where the flock grazed. 

There was a spring on this land, at the head of the 
canyon just below me and within the fence. It was 
in that canyon that the sheep had been killed. 

I looked down the precipitous side of the ridge 
to the dry, gray sand and rock strewn bottom. 
Manzanita and elderberry shrubs, thickly matted, 
made a dense growth above the winter storm’s high 
water mark. The canyon was dry as a bone. 

As this was the sheep’s watering place, I wanted 
to see how the spring was holding out. I dismounted, 
let the horse graze from the bushes, and, calling 
Sandy, went crackling and plunging downward 
through the Chaparral. 

In the bottom we came upon a startled flock of 
sheep. They were up and running when we burst 
through the underbrush. Our noise had scared 
them. I watched Sandy. He paid no heed to them. 
And it was here where all the dead sheep had been 
found. 

Up the canyon we started, I slowly plodding 
through the gravel and climbing over rocks. 

I watched for moisture in the sand or in the shade 
under overhanging boulders. Finally signs of water 
became apparent and I was pleased at the distance 
below the main spring where I found it. It meant 
that a goodly supply was present for the entire 
summer. I was ready to return to my horse but, as 
I dug my heel into the shifty soil, I happened to look 
at Sandy. 

He was acting in a very peculiar manner. The 
hair on the nape of his neck was bristling, his nose 


SANDY 


37 


was in the air, then ducked close to the ground to 
sniff excitedly at something. 

He let out little anxious yelps and looked at me. 
Then he ran to me and tugged at my trousers with his 
teeth, urging me to go with him up the canyon. 

Wondering what was the cause of his nervousness, 
I followed. He would bound ahead, sniff the air, 
growl, then come back and in every way at his 
command try to get me to hasten. 

I didn’t like the sound of that growl. I felt that 
Sandy’s instinct told him of the nearness of some 
wild creature that meant danger. I stopped and cut 
a gnarled club of the tough red manzanita. To make 
the weapon more effective I left a heavy joint at one 
end. Then I followed the nervous, excited dog as 
fast as my legs would carry me. 

It was only about a quarter of a mile to the head 
of the canyon and spring. The canyon narrowed to 
a gorge, then suddenly opened at the sides to form a 
natural cliff-bound amphitheater. There was no 
way out except as we had entered. At the far side— 
about a hundred feet from us—was a small cleft in 
the rock wall. In the bottom of this the spring 
bubbled in a pool. Along the sides of the cleft over 
the water was a fault in the rock resulting in a shelf 
about eighteen inches wide. 

The sun shone brightly down. Two cottonwoods 
grew in the floor of the amphitheater. When we got 
there a fearful sight met my gaze. 

Kneeling by the pool, as if stopped in the moment 
of taking a drink, looking with evident alarm up at 
the shelf rock, was Billy. 

On the shelf was a great, gray, dog-like animal, 
teeth bared, ready to spring out. It was no coyote. 
It was a wolf. 


38 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Billy’s gun was on the ground ten feet back from 
where he knelt by the water. A shot from it would 
only have frenzied the beast anyway. 

Sandy waited for me no longer. Like a streak of 
yellow flame he dashed across the level floor and 
stopped beside his beloved young master. 

Billy saw him. With a cry of relief, he took his 
dog’s head in his arms and pressed his face against 
the white starred forehead. 

Sandy shook himself free. He gave a little affec¬ 
tionate whine to acknowledge the greeting; then his 
growl of challenge to the father of all dogs—the 
wolf—was in the voice of the proud fighter. No 
coward could have uttered it. 

“Back away, Bill—get your gun—and come here,” 
I yelled. 

My voice seemed to anger the wild beast, for at the 
first sound the wolf rose, snarled viciously and, crafti¬ 
ly looking for a place to open his attack, swung his 
head from side to side. 

Billy did as I told him. Sandy cautiously stepped 
along the edge of the pool, placing his protective body 
between his master and the menacing beast. His 
gaze was fixed on the wolf. Suddenly the gray ani¬ 
mal leaped into the air. Straight at the tan and white 
dog he came. Sandy anticipated the attack. He 
nimbly side-stepped. His head flew to one side as if 
on a very stiff spring. His teeth were bared. As the 
wolf lit, not on him, but beside him, Sandy’s sharp 
fangs shot into his side and came away dripping. 

Sandy had learned a valuable lesson from the 
coyote. The wolf tried the quick, characteristic 
side-swipe. Sandy was not there where the snapping 
teeth slashed. Now, as if of rubber, he seemed to 


SANDY 


39 


rebound to the wolfs rear, and before the gray 
animal could whirl, Sandy had creased his quarter 
and with lightning rapidity crunched the bones of 
the off leg. He was away and circling. 

The wolf seemed dazed by this whirlwind attack. 
He crouched, snarled. Flying past him at top speed 
Sandy evaded the quick lunge intended for his own 
flank and opened another wound in the wolfs side. 

It was like a systematic, efficient machine, the way 
Sandy made every move. He seemed adept at the 
science of fighting in the wild. I marveled. Then I 
remembered the long line of his blue blood ancestors 
and believed intuition had added to his intelligent 
mind hints of battle not learned in his encounter 
with the coyote. 

Soon after I dispatched the wolf with my knotty 
club and Billy caressed the dog he had disowned as 
a coward. 

“Sandy—I want you. Will you be my dog again ?” 
Billy asked. 

Sandy stood panting, taking his caresses. He 
looked different. He was different. He had regained 
his self-respect. He licked Billy's hand. 

That noon I told the overseer what Sandy had 
done. “Now the sheep will not be molested," I 
remarked. 

But the next morning he came to me with a bad 
report. “Another sheep is dead!" he said in a final 
tone. To him the proof of Sandy's guilt was now 
absolute. 

But I was not satisfied. “I'll see—to-night," I 
told him. I worried much over what he had said. 

After dark that night—it was nine o'clock—I 
mounted my horse, called Sandy and rode out along 


4 o 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


the hill crest. The moon was in the full, and bright. 
A coyote, head pointing to the heavens, was sil¬ 
houetted in the silvery light where he stood on a 
lonely, bare spur of the hills. He howled dolefully. 
I heard the pack of ranch dogs yelp as they searched 
the brush for marauders. 

Sandy, head erect, tail up, and in every way his 
dignified self again, sedately trotted beside my horse. 
I rode to the canyon which had been the scene of the 
sheep killings and of Sandy's valiant encounter with 
the wolf. 

When I tied my horse, Sandy stood near. We 
went down to the dry gravel wash together. Then 
Sandy suddenly became attentive to something 
ahead. In the moonlight I could see a flock of sheep 
standing on the gravel floor about a hundred yards 
up the canyon. 

Sandy was intently looking and listening. He 
let out a low growl. 

I thought I saw a skulking dark figure appear on 
the far side of the sheep. The sheep were not 
alarmed, so I did not further consider the dark 
shadow. Then Sandy left me. I saw him run¬ 
ning toward the sheep. 

He was about half way when I heard a pained 
bleat, which became the heart-rending call for help 
of an animal in mortal pain. 

Then Sandy got there. There was an angry 
growl—it didn't sound like Sandy. Two growls 
came together—one surely Sandy's, the other strange. 
Then snarls. I could see Sandy making attacks 
upon some dark-hued animal. He made them with 
the same overwhelming, lightning rapidity as in the 


SANDY 


4i 


morning. His dark adversary seemed confused, as 
did the wolf. I ran forward. The sheep scurried to 
cover in the bushes. The field was cleared for the 
combatants. 

When I got near I saw Sandy's enemy try to 
run. Sandy closed on him. The darker animal was 
the bigger, but the suddenness of Sandy’s attack and 
the force of direct impact brought his adversary 
down. 

I drew my revolver and stepped close but I did 
not have to use the gun. Sandy was at his throat. 
He dispatched the sheep killer unassisted. 

Billy is very proud of Sandy now, for in that fight 
the dog cleared his good name, fairly fought and 
defeated Brutus, the big slate-colored dog—the 
sheep killer—and thereby won the right to be leader 
of the pack. 

—Joseph Pettee Copp. 

Courtesy of The American Boy . 

CLASSIFYING WORDS 

Arrange your paper with four columns and place the four 
words below at the head of your columns. Write your name 
and grade at bottom of your paper. 

Teacher Doctor Lawyer Farmer 

Put each word below under the word in the column to which 
you think it belongs: 


Medicine 

Chalk 

Plow 

Law 

Wagon 

Legal 

Pills 

Eraser 

Pointer 

Dose 

Cows 

Convict 

Indict 

Cure 

Teach 

Cultivate 


42 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


WHEN NAOMI PLAYED WITH FIRE 

Many interesting stories have been told about early settlers 
who outwitted the Indians. After reading this interesting 
Indian account, try to recall some other similar story and tell 
it to the class. 

To the Teacher: After the pupils have finished telling 
these stories, have the class vote on the one which was the most 
interesting and also told in the most effective manner. 

Naomi Whitney lived in the most troublous days. 
When the wild beasts were not preying upon the 
scanty live stock of the little cabin, the redskins were 
perpetually crawling and slinking about like danger¬ 
ous shadows. 

One morning Naomi's father discovered that no 
less than five hens and twelve small chickens were 
gone from the little rough shed behind the house. 
Mr. Whitney had found many small foot prints 
about the backyard—the prints of a fox, he declared. 
But something on his face when he said this made 
thirteen-year-old Naomi ponder thoughtfully. 

She threw a long black cape over her rough, 
woolen dress and went out to feed the chickens. 
The air was chilly and Naomi pulled the ruffled hood 
attached to the cape, down over her brown head. 

She stared at the long line of bushes against the 
bleak sky. Above this underbrush the swaying heads 
of whispering pines nodded and beckoned. Naomi 
shivered, but not from the chill of the early morning. 
She threw back her shoulders quickly and drew in a 
steady breath of the bracing air. But despite her 
efforts to throw off her uneasiness she wished that 
their log-chinked house was not so near the woods. 
She noted a bit nervously how close the outbuildings 
were to the low bushes which introduced the black 


WHEN NAOMI PLAYED WITH FIRE 


43 


timberland beyond. She wished again that her father 
had not been so anxious to obtain this particular 
grant of land. To her mind even fertile soil and a 
barrier of woods to break the cold winter winds did 
not seem at all pleasing. And the Hopkins’ cabin 
was fully five miles away. 

Naomi carefully scooped out from her pewter dish 
a generous portion of corn for the chickens. While 
they ate she began a quiet, thorough search. The 
quick shadow which had fallen over her father’s face 
when he had mentioned the theft of the fowls told a 
great deal to Naomi. In her sensitive mind she felt 
sure that the troubled look on his face had not been 
caused by the mere loss of his hens and the presence 
of a thieving fox. 

The girl dropped swiftly to her knees. She scanned 
the loose earth eagerly. She clearly saw the clean-cut 
imprints of animal toes. Yes, there had been a 
fox there very recently—she knew how a fox track 
appeared. Somewhat perplexed at this plain and 
ordinary story which the soft tracks told, she arose 
slowly. Strangely restless, she paced thoughtfully 
beyond the rough log outhouse and stood among the 
stubble of the cornfield. The November winds 
made some of the dry corn husks rattle. Then 
she stopped suddenly. 

Partially concealed by a few dried corn husks 
appeared a faint depression on the brown earth. 
With the tip of her heavy buckled shoe she brushed 
aside the dried stalks. She stifled a little cry that 
tried to leap from her throat. There at her feet lay, 
faintly but clearly defined, the print of a foot. It 
was not the impression of a thieving fox. It was 
something far more fearful. It was the print of a 
moccasined foot. 


44 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Naomi began a careful search in the deserted 
cornfield for other trails left by moccasined feet, 
but she found no more. This fact, however, did not 
quiet her feelings. The stubble and stone and 
scraggling tufts of grass gave ample opportunities 
for the crafty redskin to pick his way without leaving 
any further marks of a visit. Yes, one print was 
quite sufficient. With a pang she realized clearly 
what the sober look on her father’s face had meant. 
Even then she had half suspected it. 

As Naomi went back to the cabin carrying her 
empty dish and a huge wooden spoon, she thought 
of her grandmother ill in bed with a severe attack 
of rheumatic fever. Her young-old mind went 
swiftly to the two crossed muskets over the stone 
mantel above the wide fireplace. And she re¬ 
membered the full powderhorn always beneath 
them on the mantel and the box of leaden balls close 
by. Yet not an Indian had troubled them during 
the four months they had lived there. In fact there 
had been few reports of any redskins within a 
twenty-mile radius. 

A horseman came up the road riding swiftly. 
As Naomi came around the corner of the house he 
was already talking in quick, low tones to her father 
and mother. 

“Is it—is it Indians?” queried the girl calmly. 
Her father looked at her sharply. 

“No,” replied Mr. Hopkins, their nearest neighbor, 
“but it is nearly as bad.” 

He glanced at the girl and then included her in 
his tidings. Young people in those days shared and 
helped in the anxieties of their elders. And very 


WHEN NAOMI PLAYED WITH FIRE 


45 


young they learned the full meaning of responsibility 
and unselfishness. 

“All our family is ill with pneumonia, and I’ve 
asked your mother to come help us for a few days.” 

Naomi nodded understandingly. “I will care for 
grandmother,” she said. 

Then suddenly her face paled as the full signifi¬ 
cance of that half-concealed moccasined outline 
came back to her. 

“Are you cold?” asked her mother anxiously. 

Naomi drew her cape more closely. “I think I 
have been outside too long.” She went into the 
house swiftly. 

Her grandmother leaned on one elbow peering 
out the narrow slit of a window which came within 
the range of her bed. Anxiously the old lady in¬ 
quired the meaning of Neighbor Hopkins’ presence. 

“Oh, nothing but illness!” she remarked with 
relief as Naomi answered her question. “I feared 
it was bad news,” and she sank calmly back into 
bed. 

The girl turned away her face to hide a smile. 
Truly illness seemed less than nothing in those days 
of constant, lurking perils. 

Mrs. Whitney came in briskly and began to 
gather a few things. Very shortly their own horse 
appeared before the door. As Naomi saw her father 
mounted, she stared at him in amazement and 
glanced down the road. Neighbor Hopkins had 
gone on toward the settlement, evidently for a few 
simple remedies. This was an eight mile ride beyond. 

“I will take your mother over,” Mr. Whitney 
said as Naomi came to the door with her. “I will 
be back by noon.” 


4 6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


With no further words they were off. Naomi 
walked back deep in thought. From the rear win¬ 
dow which overlooked the long line of black woods 
she peered intently. Then shrugging her shoulders 
she began to whistle bravely. 

Her grandmother’s chiding tones recalled her. 
“A Naomi—whistling!” groaned the old lady. 

“I’m sorry, grandmother,” responded the girl. 
“I forgot.” 

Before further comments could come she took a 
much-thumbed volume from a rough log box on the 
wall and went to the corner where her grandmother’s 
cot stood. Before opening the book her eyes traveled 
to the ladder leading to the sleeping loft overhead. 
This ladder was held in place by leather thongs and 
could be dragged up after the loft had been reached. 
Naomi shook her head and began resolutely reading 
the “Book of Martyrs” which particularly pleased 
her grandmother. 

“A little Indian-meal gruel from the skillet there,” 
suggested the old woman sometime later. Placing 
the book under the cot Naomi went quickly to the 
fireplace. As she filled a little mug with the steaming 
gruel she glanced out of the window toward the 
darkly swaying pines. She stiffened suddenly, 
spilling a drop of the hot porridge on her trembling 
hand. Swiftly she glanced at her grandmother. 
The old lady lay with closed eyes. Stealthily the 
girl drew a step nearer the narrow window, keeping 
her face well in the shadow. Had she seen only a 
few tardy autumn leaves or had the spot of bright 
color been something else? 

Naomi’s throat suddenly became very dry. Her 
heart pounded and thumped, for as she peered at 


WHEN NAOMI PLAYED WITH FIRE 


47 


the sullen landscape a dim, brown face peeked from 
the underbrush. There were hideous circles of 
gaudy paint on the dark face, while over the straight 
hair gleamed lines of brilliant feathers like some 
bird of tropical plumage. 

Dumbly the girl watched it in fascination. But 
the figure seemed content to crouch in his hiding 
place. Helplessly she looked at the wizened face 
of her grandmother lying with closed eyes. Then 
her wide eyes went down to the drop of porridge 
which still clung to her shaking hand. Hardly 
knowing what she did she brushed off the little clot 
of meal. The hot gruel had seared a little red mark 
on her hand. 

For the space of a few seconds Naomi stood and 
stared at the spot. Strangely enough her hands no 
longer shook, and a red flush burned high on either 
cheek. Her eyes glittered brightly, and her lips 
were drawn into a scarlet, determined line. 

With a last glance at that grim, peering face 
the girl stepped swiftly to the mantel. She opened 
a dark box and extracted something. Then she 
took a candle dip, bending on her knees to light it 
among the dull, red coals. All the time she kept 
peeking toward the shadow line. She sat down on 
the floor where she could watch and yet not be seen. 
Her fingers worked fearlessly, rapidly. 

“Where is my gruel?” came the pain-racked voice 
of her grandmother, but she didn’t open her eyes. 

“The fire is low, grandmother,” murmured Naomi 
cautiously. “Just a moment.” 

To her intense relief her grandmother accepted 
her excuse, waiting patiently and quietly. 

Still the girl worked on, sometimes biting her lips 


4 8 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


as if in pain, and sometimes smiling to herself. She 
breathed a prayer of relief as the quiet, crouching 
figure in the woods still remained merely a watcher. 

“Grandmother,” whispered Naomi close to the 
cot, where she had crept, shading her candle that 
no ray should reach the ambushed redskin, “Grand¬ 
mother. You must help me. Quick—listen !” In 
a few words she told their danger and outlined her 
plan. 

The old lady leaned on one elbow, staring strangely 
at the flushed face of her granddaughter, at the 
shaded candle on the floor, at what the girl held in 
her hand. 

“Well, Naomi Whitney.” There was no fear in 
the voice, but a grim humor mingled with pride. 
“If you don’t beat everything. Hurry and get 
me fixed!” 

“Just your face and your arms, grandmother,” 
whispered Naomi as she fell to work in dead earnest. 

The girl finished her task with complete satis¬ 
faction and blew out the candle. She piled dry, 
pitchy boughs high on the slumbering coals and 
coaxed up a roaring blaze which lighted up the cabin 
well—very well so Namoni hoped. She pulled her 
grandmother’s couch much nearer the blazing fire. 

With never a groan the sick woman rolled over 
nearer the fire and left Naomi the outer edge of the 
cot, that side which came nearer the door. On the 
table close by, the girl had placed a few bottles with 
dark liquids. Under the bed in plain view stood 
water and a skillet of gruel. 

Then Naomi unbraided her hair and mussed it 
roughly with her quick fingers. She peered out of 
the window. 


WHEN NAOMI PLAYED WITH FIRE 


49 


“He’s coming, grandmother,” she breathed, “and 
he is in full war paint. There are others following 
him.” 

Naomi stretched herself in an awkward position 
on the couch. One hand tore at her hair and the 
other sprawled over the edge, dangling in seeming 
helplessness. 

She could count her heartbeats and it was with 
the greatest difficulty that she could distinguish 
between her thumping chest and the soft, pattering 
sounds coming ever nearer. Through her half-closed 
eyes she saw the hideous, staring face of the chief 
at the window. She uttered a little moan and tossed 
restlessly. Her grandmother imitated her, trembling 
and shaking with the realism of fear. Another 
face peered in at the narrow window, then a third. 

The Indian warriors seemed to be arguing with 
the chief. Stolidly he shook his head and grunted. 
Then Naomi felt her loosened hair stiffen and stand 
on end. The heavy wooden latch on the door moved 
the fraction of an inch. Slowly the door opened. 
The gaudily painted figure of the chief stalked in, 
followed by his equally terrifying band. Bows and 
arrows and tomahawks seemed to be much in evi¬ 
dence. About ten feet from the couch the Indian 
leader stopped. A hesitating look crept over his 
glittering eyes. 

Slowly Naomi raised herself with difficulty until 
she stood up tottering. She took a stumbling step 
toward the graven figure of the chief. The room was 
soundless except for the low moans of the old woman 
and the snapping of the pin fagots. 

Fearlessly the girl brought her wide gaze to rest 
on the chief. She raised her hands and pointed to 


50 COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 





































































































































WHEN NAOMI PLAYED WITH FIRE 


5i 


her face and to her arms, and then at the fever-red¬ 
dened features of the moaning old woman. The 
flare of the blazing fire showed to the staring redskins 
a pale-faced girl with wild hair and with—the chief 
fell back a step gazing as if hypnotized. For he 
plainly saw the red, mottling spots covering the 
face, the neck, and the arms of the girl and the old 
woman. His warriors behind him saw, too. 

“Go! Go!” screamed Naomi, gesturing like one 
crazed with fever. Again she pointed to her face. 

Without a final look the group of redskins uttered 
harsh cries of abject terror. They pushed one 
another, they stumbled in their attempts to leave 
the ill-fated cabin. They covered their eyes and 
their noses as they sped toward the woods. 

When the last bush had closed over the terrorized 
Indians, Naomi crept quietly to the door and shut 
it. Her grandmother was weeping and laughing 
alternately 

Naomi studied her face. The seeming miracle 
had been accomplished by merely a candle and a 
piece of fine wire. By heating the wire nearly redhot 
in a tongue of flame, she had burned little blisters 
until both she and her grandmother appeared 
fearfully spotted. Anyone who ever had seen a person 
with smallpox would surely think these two were 
suffering with it. The Indians had suffered far 
more than the white man from this death-dealing, 
spotted disease. They knew but too well the terrible 
danger of the virulent smallpox. 

When Mr. Whitney first saw Naomi at noon he 
was terribly startled. Even to his eyes she seemed 
in the throes of the dread disease. He was speechless 
with horror and relief as he heard her story. When 


52 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Mr. Hopkins returned from the settlement Naomi's 
father told him of her brave strategy. Before sun¬ 
down the two men had warned the various settlers 
of the impending danger. 

But strangely enough no further signs of the 
Indians were reported. Possibly they believed the 
disease to be widespread in that locality. But the 
marks of this make-believe smallpox were easily 
healed by a thick coating of mutton tallow. 

—Florence M. Pettee. 

Couresty of Queens Gardens . 

DESCRIPTION 

Select one of the topics below and write a paragraph of 
twenty-five words on it. Your teacher will time you. Write 
your name and grade at the top of your paper and hand it to 
your teacher when she calls for it: 

1. An Automobile Accident 

2 . A Runaway Horse 

3. A Beautiful Sunset 

4. Your Favorite Mountain Scene 

5. A Picture at the Movies 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 


53 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 

Most people think that their opportunities would be much 
greater if they could leave the community in which they are 
living. Many times there are much better opportunities at 
home but people fail to take advantage of them. In this story 
Hawthorne shows how it took years for Ralph Cranfield to 
realize this truth. 

Watch for the three things that Ralph tried to gain by 
leaving home. 

In the twilight of a summer eve, a tall, dark 
figure over which long and remote travel had thrown 
an outlandish aspect, was entering a village, not in 
“Fairy Londe,” but within our own familiar bounda¬ 
ries. The staff on which this traveller leaned had 
been his companion from the spot where it grew, 
in the jungles of Hindostan; the hat that over¬ 
shadowed his sombre brow had shielded him from 
the suns of Spain: but his cheek had been blackened 
by the red-hot wind of an Arabian desert, and had 
felt the frozen breath of an Arctic region. Long 
sojourning amid wild and dangerous men, he still 
wore beneath his vest the ataghan which he had 
once struck into the throat of a Turkish robber. 
In every foreign clime he had lost something of his 
New England characteristics; and, perhaps, from 
every people he had unconsciously borrowed a new 
peculiarity; so that when the world-wanderer again 
trod the street of his native village it is no wonder 
that he passed unrecognized, though exciting the 
gaze and curiosity of all. Yet, as his arm casually 
touched that of a young woman who was wending 
her way to an evening lecture she started, and 
almost uttered a cry. 

“Ralph Cranfield!” was the name that she half 
articulated. 


54 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“Can that be my old playmate, Faith Egerton?” 
thought the traveller, looking round at her figure, 
but without pausing. 

Ralph Cranfield, from his youth upward, had felt 
himself marked out for a high destiny. He had 
imbibed the idea—we say not whether it were 
revealed to him by witchcraft, or in a dream of 
prophecy, or that his brooding fancy had palmed its 
own dictates upon him as the oracles of a Sibyl!— 
but he had imbibed the idea, and held it firmest 
among his articles of faith, that three marvellous 
events of his life were to be confirmed to him by 
three signs. 

The first of these three fatalities, and perhaps the 
one on which his youthful imagination had dwelt 
most fondly, was the discovery of the maid who 
alone, of all the maids on earth, could make him 
happy by her love. He was to roam around the 
world till he should meet a beautiful woman wearing 
on her bosom a jewel in the shape of a heart; whether 
of pearl, or ruby, or emerald, or carbuncle, or a 
changeful opal, or perhaps a priceless diamond, 
Ralph Cranfield little cared, so long as it were a 
heart of one peculiar shape. On encountering this 
lovely stranger, he was bound to address her thus: 
“Maiden, I have brought you a heavy heart. May 
I rest its weight on you?” And if she were his fated 
bride—if their kindred souls were destined to form a 
union here below, which all eternity should only 
bind more closely—she would reply, with her finger 
on the heart-shaped jewel,—“This token, which 
I have worn so long, is the assurance that you may!” 

And, secondly, Ralph Cranfield had a firm belief 
that there was a mighty treasure hidden somewhere 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 


55 


in the earth, of which the burial-place would be 
revealed to none but him. When his feet should 
press upon the mysterious spot, there, would be a 
hand before him pointing downward—whether 
carved of marble, or hewn in gigantic dimensions 
on the side of a rocky precipice, or perchance a 
hand of flame in empty air, he could not tell; but, 
at least, he would discern a hand, the forefinger 
pointing downward, and beneath it the Latin word 
Effode —Dig! and digging thereabouts, the gold 
in coin or ingots, the precious stones, or of whatever 
else the treasure might consist, would be certain 
to reward his toil. 

The third and the last of the miraculous events 
in the life of this high-destined man was to be the 
attainment of extensive influence and sway over 
his fellow-creatures. Whether he were to be a 
king and founder of an hereditary throne, or the 
the victorious leader of a people contending for their 
freedom, or the apostle of a purified and regenerated 
faith, was left for futurity to show. As messengers 
of the sign by which Ralph Cranfield might recognize 
the summons, three venerable men were to claim 
audience of him. The chief among them, a dignified 
and majestic person, arrayed, it may be supposed, 
in the flowing garments of an ancient sage, would 
be the bearer of a wand or prophet’s rod. With this 
wand, or rod, or staff, the venerable sage would 
trace a certain figure in the air, and then proceed to 
make known his heaven-instructed message; which, 
if obeyed, must lead to glorious results. 

With this proud fate before him, in the flush of 
his imaginative youth, Ralph Cranfield had set 
forth to seek the maid, the treasure, and the venerable 
sage with his gift of extended empire. And had he 


56 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


found them? Alas! it was not with the aspect of a 
trimphant man, who had achieved a nobler destiny 
than all his fellows, but rather with the gloom of one 
struggling against peculiar and continual adversity, 
that he now passed homeward to his mother's 
cottage. He had come back, but only for a time, 
to lay aside the pilgrim's staff, trusting that his 
weary manhood would regain somewhat of the 
elasticity of youth, in the spot where his threefold 
fate had been foreshown him. There had been 
few changes in the village; for it was not one of 
those thriving places where a year’s prosperity 
makes more than the havoc of a century's decay; 
but like a gray hair in a young man's head, an 
antiquated little town, full of old maids, and aged 
elms, and moss-grown dwellings. Few seemed to be 
the changes here. The drooping elms, indeed, had a 
more majestic spread; the weather-blackened houses 
were adorned with a denser thatch of verdant moss; 
and doubtless there were a few more gravestones in 
the burial ground, inscribed with names that had 
once been familiar in the village street. Yet, sum¬ 
ming up all the mischief that ten years had wrought, 
it seemed scarcely more than if Ralph Cranfield had 
gone forth that very morning, and dreamed a day¬ 
dream till the twilight, and then turned back again. 
But his heart grew cold because the village did not 
remember him as he remembered the village. 

“Here is the change!” sighed he, striking his 
hand upon his breast. “Who is this man of thought 
and care, weary with world-wandering and heavy 
with disappointed hopes? The youth returns not, 
who went forth so joyously!” 

And now Ralph Cranfield was at his mother's 
gate, in front of the small house where the old lady, 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 


57 


with slender but sufficient means, had kept herself 
comfortable during her son’s long absence. Admit¬ 
ting himself within the enclosure, he leaned against 
a great, old tree, trifling with his own impatience, 
as people often do in those intervals when years are 
summed into a moment. He took a minute survey 
of the dwelling—its windows brightened with the 
sky gleam, its doorway, with the half of a millstone 
for a step, and the faintly-traced path waving thence 
to the gate. He made friends again with his child¬ 
hood’s friend, the old tree against which he leaned; 
and glancing his eye adown its trunk, beheld some¬ 
thing that excited a melancholy smile. It was a 
half obliterated inscription—the Latin word Effode 
—which he remembered to have carved in the bark 
of the tree, with a whole day’s toil, when he had 
first begun to muse about his exalted destiny. It 
might be accounted a rather singular coincidence, 
that the bark just above the inscription, had put 
forth an excrescence, shaped not unlike a hand, 
with the forefinger pointing obliquely at the word of 
fate. Such, at least, was its appearance in the 
dusky light. 

“Now a credulous man,” said Ralph Cranfield 
carelessly to himself, “might suppose that the 
treasure which I have sought round the world lies 
buried, after all, at the very door of my mother’s 
dwelling. That would be a jest indeed!” 

More he thought not about the matter; for now 
the door was opened, and an elderly woman appeared 
on the threshold, peering into the dusk to discover 
who it might be that had intruded on her premises, 
and was standing in the shadow of her tree. It was 
Ralph Cranfield’s mother. Pass we over their 
greeting, and leave the one to her joy and the other 
to his rest,—if quiet rest be found. 


58 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


But when morning broke, he arose with a troubled 
brow; for his sleep and his wakefulness had alike 
been full of dreams. All the fervor was rekindled 
with which he had burned of yore to unravel the 
threefold mystery of his fate. The crowd of his early 
visions seemed to have awaited him beneath his 
mother’s roof, and thronged riotously around to 
welcome his return. In the well-remembered cham¬ 
ber, on the pillow where his infancy had slumbered, 
he had passed a wilder night than ever in an Arab 
tent, or when he had reposed his head in the ghastly 
shades of a haunted forest. A shadowy maid had 
stolen to his bedside, and laid her linger on the 
scintillating heart; a hand of flame had glowed amid 
the darkness, pointing downward to a mystery 
within the earth; a hoary sage had waved his pro¬ 
phetic wand, and beckoned the dreamer onward to 
a chair of state. The same phantoms, though 
fainter in the daylight, still flitted about the cottage, 
and mingled among the crowd of familiar faces that 
were drawn thither by the news of Ralph Cranfield’s 
return, to bid him welcome for his mother’s sake. 
There they found him, a tall, dark, stately man of 
foreign aspect, courteous in demeanor and mild of 
speech, yet with an abstracted eye, which seemed 
often to snatch a glance at the invisible. 

Meantime the widow Cranfield went bustling 
about the house, full of joy that she again had 
somebody to love, and be careful of, and for whom 
she might vex and tease herself with the petty 
troubles of daily life. It was nearly noon when she 
looked forth from the door, and descried three 
personages of note coming along the street, through 
the hot sunshine and the masses of elm-tree shade. 
At length they reached her gate and undid the latch. 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 


59 


“See, Ralph!” exclaimed she, with maternal 
pride, “here is Squire Hawkwood and the two other 
selectmen, coming on purpose to see you! Now do 
tell them a good long story about what you have 
seen in foreign parts.” 

The foremost of the three visitors, Squire Hawk- 
wood, was a very pompous, but excellent old gentle¬ 
man, the head and prime mover in all the affairs 
of the village, and universally acknowledged to be 
one of the sagest men on earth. He wore, according 
to a fashion even then becoming antiquated, a 
three-cornered hat, and carried a silver-headed 
cane, the use of which seemed to be rather for 
flourishing in the air than for assisting the progress 
of his legs. His two companions were elderly and 
respectable yeomen, who, retaining an ante-revolu¬ 
tionary reverence for rank and hereditary wealth, 
kept a little in the Squire's rear. As they approached 
along the pathway, Ralph Cranfield sat in an oaken 
elbow chair, half unconsciously gazing at the thre*e 
visitors, and enveloping their homely figures in the 
misty romance that pervaded his mental world. 

“Here,” thought he, smiling at the conceit, “here 
come three elderly personages, and the first of the 
three is a venerable sage with a staff. What if this 
embassy should bring me the message of my fate!” 

While Squire Hawkwood and his colleagues 
entered, Ralph rose from his seat and advanced a 
few steps to receive them, and his stately figure and 
dark countenance, as he bent courteously towards 
his guests, had a natural dignity, contrasting well 
with the bustling importance of the Squire. The 
old gentleman, according to invariable custom, gave 
an elaborate preliminary flourish with his cane in 
the air, then removed his three-cornered hat in 


6o 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


order to wipe his brow, and finally proceeded to 
make known his errand. 

“My colleagues and myself,” began the Squire, 
“are burdened with momentous duties, being jointly 
selectmen of this village. Our minds, for the space < 
of three days past, have been laboriously bent on 
the selection of a suitable person to fill a most 
important office, and take upon himself a charge 
and rule which, wisely considered, may be ranked no 
lower than those of kings and potentates. And 
whereas you, our native townsman, are of good 
natural intellect, and well cultivated by foreign 
travel, and that certain vagaries and fantasies of 
your youth are doubtless long ago corrected; taking 
all these matters, I say, into due consideration, we 
are of opinion that Providence hath sent you hither, 
at this juncture, for our very purpose. ,, 

During this harangue, Cranfield gazed fixedly at 
the speaker, as if he beheld something mysterious and 
unearthly in his pompous little figure, and as if 
the Squire had worn the flowing robes of an ancient 
sage, instead of a square-skirted coat, flapped 
waistcoat, velvet breeches and silk stockings. Nor 
was his wonder without sufficient cause; for the 
flourish of the Squire's staff, marvellous to relate, 
had described precisely the signal in the air which 
was to ratify the message of the prophetic Sage 
whom Cranfield had sought around the world. 

“And what,” inquired Ralph Cranfield, with a 
tremor in his voice, “what may this office be, which 
is to equal me with kings and potentates?” 

“No less than instructor of our village school,” 
answered Squire Hawkwood; “the office being now 
vacant by the death of the venerable Master Whita¬ 
ker, after a fifty years' incumbency.” 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 


61 

“I will consider of your proposal/' replied Ralph 
Cranfield, hurriedly, “and will make known my 
decision within three days." 

After a few more words the village dignitary and 
his companions took their leave. But to Cranfield’s 
fancy their images were still present, and became 
more and more invested with the dim awfulness of 
figures which had first appeared to him in a dream, 
and afterwards had shown themselves in his waking 
moments, assuming homely aspects among familiar 
things. His mind dwelt upon the features of the 
Squire, till they grew confused with those of the 
visionary Sage, and one appeared but the shadow of 
the other. The same visage, he now thought, had 
looked forth upon him from the Pyramid of Cheops; 
the same form had beckoned to him among the 
colonnades of the Alhambra; the same figure had 
mistily revealed itself through the ascending steam 
of the Great Geyser. At every effort of his memory 
he recognized some trait of the dreamy Messenger 
of Destiny in this pompous, bustling, self-important, 
little great man of the village. Amid such musings 
Ralph Cranfield sat all day in the cottage, scarcely 
hearing and vaguely answering his mother’s thousand 
questions about his travels and adventures. At 
sunset he roused himself to take a stroll, and, passing 
the aged elm-tree, his eye was again caught by the 
semblance of a hand pointing downward at the 
half-obliterated inscription. 

As Cranfield walked down the street of the village, 
the level sunbeams threw his shadow far before 
him; and he fancied that as his shadow walked 
among distant objects, so had there been a presenti¬ 
ment stalking in advance of him throughout his 
life. And when he drew near each object, over which 


62 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


his tall shadow had preceded him, still it proved to 
be one of the familiar recollections of his infancy and 
youth. Every crook in the pathway was remem¬ 
bered. Even the more transitory characteristics 
of the scene were the same as in by-gone days. A 
company of cows were grazing on the grassy roadside, 
and refreshed him with their fragrant breath. “It 
is sweeter,” thought he, “than the perfume which 
was wafted to our ship from the Spice Islands. The 
round little figure of a child rolled from a doorway, 
and lay laughing almost beneath Cranfield’s feet. 
The dark and stately man stooped down and, 
lifting the infant, restored him to his mother’s 
arms. “The children,” said he to himself—and 
sighed and smiled—“the children are to be my 
charge!” And while a flow of natural feeling gushed 
like a well-spring in his heart, he came to a dwelling 
which he could nowise forbear to enter. A sweet 
voice, which seemed to come from a deep and tender 
soul, was warbling a plaintive little air within. 

He bent his head and passed through the lowly 
door. As his foot sounded upon the threshold, a 
young woman advanced from the dusky interior of 
the house, at first hastily, and then with a more 
uncertain step, till they met face to face. There 
was a singular contrast in their two figures: he dark 
and picturesque—one who had battled with the 
world, whom all suns had shone upon, and whom 
all winds had blown on a varied course; she neat, 
comely, and quiet—quiet even in her agitation, as 
if all her emotions had been subdued to the peaceful 
tenor of her life. Yet their faces, all unlike as they 
were, had an expression that seemed not so alien, 
a glow of kindred feeling flashing upward anew from 
half-extinguished embers. 


THE THREEFOLD DESTINY 


6 3 


“You are welcome home!” said Faith Egerton. 

But Cranfield did not immediately answer; for 
his eye had been caught by an ornament in the shape 
of a Heart which Faith wore as a brooch upon her 
bosom. The material was the ordinary white quartz; 
and he recollected having himself shaped it out of 
one of those Indian arrowheads which are so often 
found in the ancient haunts of red men. It was 
precisely on the pattern of that worn by the visionary 
Maid. When Cranfield departed on his shadowy 
search he had bestowed this brooch, in a gold setting, 
as a parting gift to Faith Egerton. 

“So, Faith, you have kept the Heart!” said he at 
length. 

“Yes,” said she, blushing deeply; then more 
gayly, “and what else have you brought me from 
beyond the sea?” 

“Faith!” replied Cranfield, uttering the fated 
words by an uncontrollable impulse, “I have brought 
you nothing but a heavy heart! May I rest its 
weight on you?” 

“This token which I have worn so long,” said 
Faith, laying her tremulous finger on the Heart, 
“is the assurance that you may!” 

“Faith! Faith!” cried Cranfield, clasping her in 
his arms, “you have interpreted my wild and weird 
dream!” 

Yes, the wild dream was awake at last. To find 
the mysterious treasure, he was to till the earth 
around his mother's dwelling, and reap its products! 
Instead of warlike command, or regal or religious 
sway, he was to rule over the village children! And 
now the visionary Maid had faded from his fancy, 
and in her place he saw the playmate of his childhood! 


64 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Would all who cherish such wild wishes but look 
around them, they would oftenest find their sphere 
of duty, of prosperity, and happiness, within those 
precincts and in that station where Providence itself 
has cast their lot. Happy they who read the riddle 
without a weary world search, or a lifetime spent 
in vain! 

—Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

WORDS OPPOSITE IN MEANING 

There should be io lines on your paper. Write your name 
on the first line and your grade on the second line. In the list 
below there is one word in parenthesis that is opposite in 
meaning to the first word in each line. For example, which 
word in parenthesis following High is opposite in meaning to 
High? Number your lines I to 8 and place one word on each 
line: 

1. High (far, down, up, low) 

2. Fast (rapid, easy, slow, run) 

3. Selfish (good, bad, unselfish) 

4. Love (respect, dislike, hate) 

. 5. Popular (giddy, unpopular, careful) 

6. Summer (Spring, Autumn, Winter, Fall) 

7. Happy (sad, glad, thrilled, blue) 

8. Top (lid, summit, bottom) 


THE CAPTURE OF GULLIVER 


65 


SPEED TEST II 

At a signal from your teacher you will start reading rapidly. 
Have a pencil ready so that when your teacher announces 
“One minute,” you may put a neat check mark by the word 
you were reading when the minute was up. Continue to read 
and check each time a minute interval is announced by your 
teacher until she says “Five minutes.” Finish reading the 
story without interruption. Then go back and count separately 
the words read the first, second, third, fourth, and fifth minute 
intervals, setting down the number each time. Add these and 
divide by five to get your average rate of reading per minute. 
Compare this rate with your rate of reading for speed test I, 
P a g e J* 


THE CAPTURE OF GULLIVER 

My father had a small estate in Nottinghamshire; 
I was the third of five sons. He sent me to Em¬ 
manuel College in Cambridge at fourteen years old, 
where I resided three years, and applied myself 
close to my studies; but the charge of maintaining 
me, although I had a very scanty allowance, being 
too great for a narrow fortune, I was bound appren¬ 
tice to Mr. James Bates, an eminent surgeon in 
London with whom I continued four years; and my 
father now and then sending me small sums of 
money, I laid them out in learning navigation, and 
other parts of the mathematics useful to those who 
intend to travel, as I always believed it would be, 
some time or other, my fortune to do. When I left 
Mr. Bates, I went down to my father; where, by 
the assistance of him, and my uncle John and some 
other relatives, I got forty pounds, and a promise of 
thirty pounds a year, to maintain me at Leyden. 
There I studied physic two years and seven months, 
knowing it would be useful in long voyages. 


66 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Soon after my return from Leyden, I was recom¬ 
mended by my good master, Mr. Bates, to be 
surgeon to The Swallow , Captain Abraham Panned, 
commander; with whom I continued three years 
and a half, making a voyage or two into the Levant, 
and some other parts. After having consulted with 
my wife, and some of my acquaintances, I deter¬ 
mined to go again to sea. I was surgeon successively 
in two ships, and made several voyages, for six 
years, to the East and West Indies, by which I 
got some addition to my fortune. My hours of 
leisure I spent in reading the best authors, ancient 
and modern, being always provided with a good 
number of books; and, when I was ashore, in ob¬ 
serving the manners and dispositions of the people, 
as well as learning their language, wherein I had a 
great facility, by the strength of my memory. 

The last of these voyages not proving very for¬ 
tunate, I grew weary of the sea, and intended to 
stay at home with my wife and family. I removed 
from the Old Jewry to Fetter Lane, and from 
thence to Wapping, hoping to get business among 
the sailors; but it would not turn to account. After 
three years' expectation that things would mend, 
I accepted an advantageous offer from Captain 
William Prichard, master of The Antelope , which 
was making a voyage to the South Sea. We set sail 
from Bristol, May 4, 1699; and our voyage at first 
was very prosperous. 

It would not be proper, for some reasons, to 
trouble the reader with the particulars of our adven¬ 
tures in those seas. Let it suffice to inform him, 
that, in our passage from thence to the East Indies, 
we were driven by a violent storm to the northwest 
of Van Diemen's Land. By an observation, we: 


THE CAPTURE OF GULLIVER 


6 7 


found ourselves in the latitude of 30 degrees 2 
minutes south. Twelve of our crew were dead by 
immoderate labor and ill food; the test were in a 
very weak condition. 

On the fifth of November, which was the beginning 
of summer in those parts, the weather being very 
hazy, the seamen spied a rock within half a cable’s 
length of the ship; but the wind was so strong that 
we were driven directly upon it and immediately 
split. Six of the crew, of whom I was one, having 
let down the boat into the sea, made a shift to get 
clear of the ship and the rock. We rowed, by my 
computation, about three leagues, till we were able 
to work no longer, being already spent with labor, 
while we were in the ship. We, therefore, trusted 
ourselves to the mercy of the waves; and, in about 
half an hour, the boat was overset by a sudden 
flurry from the north. What became of my com¬ 
panions in the boat, as well as of those who escaped 
on the rock, or were left in the vessel, I cannot tell, 
but conclude they were all lost. 

For my own part, I swam as fortune directed me, 
and was pushed forward by wind and tide. I often 
let my legs drop, and could feel no bottom; but, 
when I was almost gone, and able to struggle no 
longer, I found myself within my depth; and, by 
this time, the storm was much abated. 

The declivity was so small that I walked near a 
mile before I got to the shore, which I conjectured 
was about eight o’clock in the evening. I then 
advanced forward near half a mile, but could not 
discover any sign of houses or inhabitants; at least, 
I was in so weak a condition, that I did not observe 
them, I was extremely tired, and with that, and 
the heat of the weather, and about half a pint of 


68 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


brandy that I drank as I left the ship, I found 
myself much inclined to sleep. I lay down on the 
grass, which was very short and soft, where I slept 
sounder than ever I remembered to have done in 
my life, and, as I reckoned, above nine hours; for, 
when I awaked, it was just daylight. I attempted 
to rise, but was not able to stir: for as I happened 
to lie on my back, I found my arms and legs were 
strongly fastened on each side to the ground; and 
my hair, which was long and thick, tied down in the 
same manner. I likewise felt several slender ligatures 
across my body, from my armpits to my thighs. 
I could only look upwards; the sun began to grow 
hot, and the light offended my eyes. 

I heard a confused noise about me; but, in the 
posture I lay, could see nothing except the sky. In 
a little time I felt something alive on my left leg, 
which, advancing gently forward over my breast, 
came almost up to my chin; when, bending my eyes 
downward as much as I could, I perceived it to be a 
human creature, not six inches high, with a bow and 
arrow in his hands, and a quiver at his back. In the 
meantime I felt at least forty more of the same 
kind (as I conjectured) following the first. 

I was in the utmost astonishment, and roared so 
loud that they all ran back in a fright; and some of 
them, as I was afterwards told, were hurt with the 
falls they got by leaping from my sides upon the 
ground. However, they soon returned, and one 
of them, who ventured so far as to get a full sight 
of my face, lifting up his hands and eyes by way 
of admiration, cried out in a shrill but distinct voice— 
“Hekinah degul \’ The others repeated the same 
words several times, but I then knew not what 
they meant. 


THE CAPTURE OF GULLIVER 


6 S> 


I lay all this time, as the reader may believe, in 
great uneasiness. At length, struggling to get loose, 
I had the fortune to break the strings, and wrench 
out the pegs that fastened my left arm to the ground; 
for by lifting it up to my face, I discovered the 
method they had taken to bind me, and, at the same 
time, with a violent pull, which gave me excessive 
pain, I loosened the strings that tied down my 
hair on the left side, so that I was just able to turn 
my head about two inches. 

But the creatures ran off a second time, before 
I could seize them; whereupon there was a great 
shout in a very shrill accent and after it ceased, I 
heard one of them cry aloud, “Tologo phonac ”; 
when, in an instant, I felt above an hundred arrows 
discharged on my left hand, which pricked me 
like so many needles; and, besides, they shot another 
flight into the air, as we do bombs in Europe, whereof 
many, I suppose, fell on my body (though I felt 
them not), and some on my face, which I immediately 
covered with my left hand. 

When this shower of arrows was over, I fell a- 
groaning with grief and pain, and then striving again 
to get loose, they discharged another volley larger 
than the first, and some of them attempted with 
spears to stick me in the sides; but by good luck I 
had on me a buff jerkin, which they could not 
pierce. I thought it the most prudent method to lie 
still, and my design was to continue so till night, 
when, my left hand being already loose, I could 
easily free myself; and as for the inhabitants, I had 
reason to believe I might be a match for the greatest 
armies they could bring against me, if they were all 
of the same size with him that I saw. 

But fortune disposed otherwise of me. When the 


7° 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


people observed I was quiet, they discharged no 
more arrows: but, by the noise I heard, I knew 
their numbers increased; and about four yards from 
me, over against my right ear, I heard a knocking 
for above an hour, like that of people at work; when, 
turning my head that way, as well as the pegs and 
strings would permit me, I saw a stage erected, 
about a foot and a half from the ground, capable of 
holding four of the inhabitants, with two or three 
ladders to mount it; from whence one of them, who 
seemed to be a person of quality, made me a long 
speech, whereof I understood not one syllable. 

But I should have mentioned, that, before the 
principal person began his oration, he cried out three 
times, “Langro dehul san” (these words, and the for¬ 
mer, were afterwards repeated, and explained to me). 
Whereupon immediately about fifty of the inhabi¬ 
tants came and cut the strings that fastened the 
left side of my head, which gave me the liberty of 
turning it to the right, and of observing the person 
and gesture of him that was to speak. He appeared 
to be of a middle age, and taller than any of the 
other three who attended him, whereof one was 
a page that held up his train, and seemed to be 
somewhat longer than my middle finger; the other 
two stood one on each side, to support him. He 
acted every part of an orator, and I could observe 
many periods of threatenings, and others of prom¬ 
ises, pity, and kindness. 

I answered in a few words, but in the most sub¬ 
missive manner, lifting up my left hand and both 
my eyes to the sun, as calling him for a witness: and, 
being almost famished with hunger, having not 
eaten a morsel for some hours before I left the ship, 
I found the demands of nature so strong upon me, 


THE CAPTURE OF GULLIVER 


7 1 


that I could not forbear showing my impatience 
(perhaps against the strict rules of decency) by 
putting my finger frequently to my mouth, to 
signify that I wanted food. The hurgo (for so 
they call a great lord, as I afterwards learned) 
understood me very well. He descended from the 
stage, and commanded that several ladders should 
be applied to my sides; on which above an hundred 
of the inhabitants mounted, and walked towards 
my mouth, laden with baskets full of meat, which 
had been provided and sent thither by the king’s 
orders, upon the first intelligence he received of me. 

I observed there was the flesh of several animals, 
but could not distinguish them by the taste. There 
were shoulders, legs, and loins, shaped like those 
of mutton, and very well dressed, but smaller than 
the wings of a lark. I ate them by two or three at 
a mouthful, and took three loaves at a time, about 
the bigness of musket bullets. They supplied me 
as they could, showing a thousands marks of wonder 
and astonishment at my bulk and appetite. I then 
made another sign that I wanted drink. 

They found by my eating that a small quantity 
would not suffice me; and being a most ingenious 
people, they slung up, with great dexterity, one of 
their largest hogsheads, then rolled it towards my 
hand, and beat out the top: I drank it off at a 
draught; which I might well do, for it did hot hold 
half a pint, and tasted like a small wine of Bur¬ 
gundy, but much more delicious. They brought 
me a second hogshead, which I drank in the same 
manner, and made signs for more; but they had 
none to give me. 

When I had performed these wonders, they 
shouted for joy, and danced upon my breast, repeat- 


72 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


ing, several times, as they did at first, Hekinah 
degul. They made me a sign that I should throw 
down the two hogsheads, but first warning the 
people below to stand out of the way, crying aloud, 
Borach mivola; and, when they saw the vessels in 
the air, there was an universal shout of Hekinah 
degul . 

I confess, I was often tempted, while they were 
passing backwards and forwards on my body, to 
seize forty or fifty of the first that came in my 
reach, and dash them against the ground. But the 
remembrance of what I had felt, which probably 
might not be the worst they could do, and the promise 
of honor I made them—for so I interpreted my 
submissive behavior—soon drove out these imagi¬ 
nations. Besides, I now considered myself as 
bound, by the laws of hospitality, to a people who 
had treated me with so much expense and magni¬ 
ficence. However, in my thoughts I could not 
sufficiently wonder at the intrepidity of these 
diminutive mortals, who durst venture to mount 
and walk upon my body, while one of my hands 
was at liberty, without trembling at the very sight 
of so prodigious a creature as I must appear to them. 

After some time, when they observed that I 
made no more demands for meat, there appeared 
before me a person of high rank from his imperial 
majesty. His excellency, having mounted on the 
small of my right leg, advanced forwards up to my 
face, with about a dozen of his retinue: and, pro¬ 
ducing his credentials under the signet-royal, which 
he applied close to my eyes, spoke about ten minutes, 
without any signs of anger, but with a kind of 
determinate resolution, often pointing forwards, 
which, as I afterwards found, was towards the 


THE CAPTURE OF GULLIVER 


73 


capital city, about half a mile distant, whither it 
was agreed by his majesty in council, that I must be 
conveyed. I answered in a few words, but to no 
purpose, and made a sign with my hand that was 
loose, putting it to the other (but over his excel¬ 
lency's head, for fear of hurting him or his train) 
and then to my own head and body, to signify that 
I desired my liberty. 

It appeared that he understood me well enough, 
for he shook his head by way of disapprobation, and 
held his hands in a posture to show that I must be 
carried as a prisoner. However, he made other 
signs, to let me understand that I should have 
meat and drink enough, and very good treatment. 
Whereupon I once more thought of attempting to 
break my bonds; but again, when I felt the smart 
of their arrows upon my face and hands, which 
were all in blisters, and many of the darts still 
sticking in them, and observing, likewise, that the 
number of my enemies increased, I gave tokens to 
let them know that they might do with me what 
they pleased. Upon this the hurgo and his train 
withdrew, with much civility, and cheerful counten¬ 
ances. 

Soon after, I heard a general shout, with frequent 
repetitions of the words, Peplom selan , and I felt 
great numbers of people on my left side, relaxing 
the cords to such a degree, that I was able to turn 
upon my right, and so get a little ease. But, before 
this, they had daubed my face and both my hands 
with a sort of ointment very pleasant to the smell, 
which, in a few minutes, removed all the smart of 
their arrows. These circumstances, added to re¬ 
freshment I had received by their victuals and 
drink, which were very nourishing, disposed me to 


7 4 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


sleep. I slept about eight hours, as I was after¬ 
wards assured; and it was no wonder for the physi¬ 
cians, by the emperor's order, had mingled a sleepy 
potion in the hogsheads of wine. 

It seems that, upon the first moment I was dis¬ 
covered sleeping on the ground, after my landing, 
the emperor had early notice of it by an express; 
and determined in council, that I should be tied 
in a manner I have related (which was done in the 
night, while I slept), that plenty of meat and drink 
should be sent to me, and a machine prepared to 
carry me to the capital city. 

—Jonathan Swift. 


SUGGESTED READING 

You will no doubt enjoy reading more about Gulliver, 
for he makes four voyages in all, each to an entirely different 
sort of people. The above story, as you know, was about his 
visit to the land of the Lilliputians, or tiny folks who live on a 
dwarfish scale. The second voyage takes this same man to 
Brobdingnag where the pe9ple are giants and Gulliver is the 
dwarf. Gulliver is given on one occasion to a baby giant to 
play with and he is constantly afraid of being swallowed since 
the baby insists on putting the tiny Gulliver into his mouth. 
The third voyage takes him to Laputa which is a flying island 
held up in the air by a loadstone. The inhabitants here are 
scientists and philosophers, one of whom busies himself for 
eight years trying to get sunshine from cucumbers. The last 
voyage takes him to a land ruled by horses which are credited 
with having more intelligence than the people called Yahoos, 
a frightful race of people with low ideals and habits. 

Get the book called “Gulliver’s Travels” by Jonathan 
Swift sometime soon and read some of these interesting and 
famous accounts. 


THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 


75 


MEMORIZING A POEM 

The first step in memorizing a poem is to read it over and try 
to understand the meaning of every line. Then read the poem 
orally and give the very best expression that you can so that 
another person, hearing it, will also appreciate its meaning. 
If you study a poem with poor expression, it will be difficult 
to change the faulty expression after the poem is memorized. 

Read the poem over as a whole; that is, from beginning to 
end until it is memorized. Experiments in memorizing poems 
have shown that this is the shortest way to commit a poem to 
memory. 

To appreciate fully the following poem, one must have been 
in a blacksmith shop and have seen the blacksmith shaping a 
red-hot piece of iron on the anvil. If you have not visited a 
blacksmith shop, do so at your first opportunity. 

Commit the poem, “The Village Blacksmith,” to memory 
by the method suggested above. What lesson does this poem 
teach us? 


THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 

Under a spreading chestnut-tree 
The village smithy stands; 

The smith, a mighty man is he, 

With large and sinewy hands; 

And the muscles of his brawny arms 
Are strong as iron bands. 

His hair is crisp, and black, and long, 
His face is like the tan; 

His brow is wet with honest sweat, 

He earns whate’er he can, 

And looks the whole world in the face, 
For he owes not any man. 


7 6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 





























































































































































































THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH 


7/ 


Week in, week out, from morn till night 
You can hear his bellows blow; 

You can hear him swing his heavy sledge, 
With measured beat and slow, 

Like a sexton ringing the village bell, 
When the evening sun is low. 

And children coming home from school 
Look in at the open door; 

They love to see the flaming forge, 

And hear the bellows roar, 

And catch the burning sparks that fly 
Like chaff from a threshing-floor. 

He goes on Sunday to the church, 

And sits among his boys; 

He hears the parson pray and preach, 

He hears his daughter’s voice, 

Singing in the village choir, 

And it makes his heart rejoice. 

It sounds to him like her mother’s voice, 
Singing in Paradise! 

He needs must think of her once more 
How in the grave she lies; 

And with his hard, rough hand he wipes 
A tear out of his eyes. 

Toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing, 

Onward through life he goes; 

Each morning sees some task begun, 

Each evening sees it close; 

Something attempted, something done, 
Has earned a night’s repose. 


78 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend, 

For the lesson thou hast taught! 

Thus at the flaming forge of life 
Our fortunes must be wrought; 

Thus on its sounding anvil shaped 
Each burning deed and thought. 

—Henry W. Longfellow. 

IT COULDN’T BE DONE 

Memorize this poem by the method described* on page 75 
Some time when you have a difficult task to perform and 
are inclined to give it up, this poem should inspire you to keep 
on until the task is performed. 

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done, 

But he with a chuckle replied 
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one 
Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried. 

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin 
On his face. If he worried, he hid it. 

He started to sing as he tackled the thing 
That couldn’t be done, and he did it. 

Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that; 

At least no one ever has done it.” 

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, 
And the first thing we knew he’d begun it. 

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, 

Without any doubting or quiddit, 

He started to sing as he tackled the thing 
That couldn’t be done, and he did it. 

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done; 

There are thousands to prophesy failure; 

There are thousands to point out to you one by one 
The dangers that wait to assail you. 


SOMEBODY’S MOTHER 


79 


But just buckle in with a bit of a grin; 

Just take off your coat and go to it; 

Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing 
That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it. 

—Edgar A. Guest. 

From the book “The Path to Home.” Copyrighted 1919. 
Reprinted by permission of the publishers, Reilly and Lee Co., 
Chicago. 


SOMEBODY’S MOTHER 

This poem was written before the Boy Scouts were organized. 
What Scout principle is illustrated by this poem? Do you 
think the poem is worth memorizing? If so, memorize it by 
the method suggested on page 75. 

The woman was old and ragged and gray, 

And bent with the chill of the winter’s day. 

The street was wet with the recent snow, 

And the woman’s feet were aged and slow. 

She stood at the crossing and waited long, 

Alone, uncared for, amid the throng 
Of human beings who passed her by, 

Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye. 

Down the street with laughter and shout, 

Glad in the freedom of school “let out” 

Came the boys like a flock of sheep, 

Hailing the snow piled white and deep. 

Past the woman so old and gray, 

Hastened the children on their way. 

Nor offered a helping hand to her, 

So meek, so timid, afraid to stir, 

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses’ feet 
Should crowd her down in the slippery street. 


8 o 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


At last came one of the merry troop, 

The gayest laddie of all the group; 

He paused beside her and whispered low, 

‘Til help you across if you wish to go.” 

Her aged hand on his strong young arm 
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm 
He guided her trembling feet along, 

Proud that his own were firm and strong. 

Then back to his friends he went, 

His young heart happy and well content. 

“She’s somebody’s mother, boys, you know, 

For she’s aged and poor and slow; 

“And I hope that some fellow will lend a hand 
To help my mother, you understand, 

If ever she’s old and gray, 

When her own dear boy is far away.” 

And “somebody’s mother” bowed low her head, 
In her home that night, and the prayer she said 
Was “God be kind to the noble boy, 

Who is somebody’s son and pride and joy.” 


DO ALL THE GOOD YOU CAN. 

Do all the good you can, in all the ways you can, 
to all the souls you can, in every place you can, at 
all the times you can, with all the zeal you can, as 
long as ever you can. —John Wesley. 


LEGENDS 


81 


LEGENDS 

Persons of all ages like stories and they have always done so. 
In olden days before reading and writing were common and there 
were few forms of entertainment, men who could sing or tell 
stories well used to go about the country telling the events that 
they had heard in going from place to place and filling in 
exciting passages where necessary to make their tales more 
interesting. If they heard of some heroic encounter, they 
would pass it on by word of mouth and by so doing change a 
detail here and there until the story often had little of truth 
and much of the impossible in it. These stories were usually 
told about some prominent person whom the people wished 
to honor, and they became known as legends or non-historic 
romantic tales of adventure. 


A LEGEND OF BREGENZ 

Lake Constance lies on the northeastern boundary of 
Switzerland between that country and Austria. Bregenz is a 
city in the province of Tyrol in Austria. It is situated at the 
southeastern end of Lake Constance. 

Hundreds of years ago there was a very bitter feeling 
between the people of Switzerland and their neighbors in 
Austria. This legend gives an account of one of the attempts 
of the Swiss warriors to take the city of Bregenz by surprise. 

Read the poem carefully at least twice and be able to give 
an account of the main events related in the legend. 

Girt round with rugged mountains 
The fair Lake Constance lies; 

In her blue heart reflected 
Shine back the starry skies; 

And, watching each white cloudlet 
Float silently and slow, 

You think a piece of Heaven 
Lies on our earth below! 


82 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Midnight is there: and Silence, 
Enthroned in Heaven, looks down 
Upon her own calm mirror, 

Upon a sleeping town: 

For Bregenz, that quaint city 
Upon the Tyrol shore, 

Has stood above Lake Constance 
A thousand years and more. 

Her battlements and towers, 

From off their rocky steep, 

Have cast their trembling shadow 
For ages on the deep: 

Mountain, and lake, and valley, 

A sacred legend know, 

Of how the town was saved, one night 
Three hundred years ago. 

Far from her home and kindred, 

A Tyrol maid had fled, 

To serve in the Swiss valleys, 

And toil for daily bread; 

And every year that fleeted 
So silently and fast, 

Seemed to bear farther from her 
The memory of the Past. 

She served kind, gentle masters, 

Nor asked for rest or change; 

Her friends seemed no more new ones, 
Their speech seemed no more strange; 
And when she led her cattle 
To pasture every day, 

She ceased to look and wonder 
On which side Bregenz lay. 


A LEGEND OF BREGENZ 


83 


She spoke no more of Bregenz, 

With longing and with tears; 

Her Tyrol home seemed faded 
In a deep mist of years; 

She heeded not the rumors 
Of Austrian war and strife; 

Each day she rose, contented 
To the calm toils of life. 

Yet, when her master's children 
Would clustering round her stand, 

She sang them ancient ballads 
Of her own native land; 

And when at morn and evening 
She knelt before God’s throne, 

The accents of her childhood 
Rose to her lips alone. 

And so she dwelt: the valley 
More peaceful year by year; 

When suddenly strange portents 
Of some great deed seemed near. 

The golden corn was bending 
Upon its fragile stock, 

While farmers, heedless of their fields, 
Paced up and down in talk. 

The men seemed stern and altered, 
With looks cast on the ground; 

With anxious faces, one by one, 

The women gathered round; 

All talk of flax, or spinning, 

Or work, was put away; 

The very children seemed afraid 
To go alone to play. 


8 4 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


One day, out in the meadow 
With strangers from the town, 

Some secret plan discussing, 

The men walked up and down. 

Yet now and then seemed watching 
A strange uncertain gleam, 

That looked like lances 'mid the trees, 
That stood below the stream. 

At eve they all assembled, 

Then care and doubt were fled; 

With jovial laugh they feasted; 

The board was nobly spread. 

The elder of the village 
Rose up, his glass in hand, 

And cried, “We drink the downfall 
Of an accursed land! 

“The night is growing darker, 

Ere one more day is flown, 

Bregenz, our foeman’s stronghold, 
Bregenz shall be our own!" 

The women shrank in terror, 

(Yet Pride, too, had her part.) 

But one poor Tyrol maiden 
Felt death within her heart. 

Before her stood fair Bregenz; 

Once more her towers arose; 

What were the friends beside her? 
Only her country's foes! 

The faces of her kinsfolk, 

The days of childhood flown, 

The echoes of her mountains, 
Reclaimed her as their own! 


A LEGEND OF BREGENZ 


85 


Nothing she heard around her, 
(Though shouts rang forth again,) 

Gone were the green Swiss valleys, 
The pasture, and the plain; 

Before her eyes one vision, 

And in her heart one cry, 

That said, “Go forth, save Bregenz, 
And then, if need be, die!” 

With trembling haste and breathless, 
With noiseless step, she sped; 

Horses and weary cattle 
Were standing in the shed; 

She loosed the strong, white charger, 
That fed from out her hand, 

She mounted, and she turned his head 
Towards her native land. 

Out—out into the darkness— 

Faster, and still more fast; 

The smooth grass flies behind her, 

The chestnut wood is past; 

She looks up; clouds are heavy: 

Why is her steed so slow?— 

Scarcely the wind beside them 
Can pass them as they go. 

“Faster!” she cries, “O faster!” 

Eleven the church-bells chime: 

“O God,” she cries, “help Bregenz, 
And bring me there in time!” 

And louder than bells' ringing, 

Or lowing of the kine, 

Grows nearer in the midnight 
The rushing of the Rhine. 


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COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Shall not the roaring waters 
Their headlong gallop check? 

The steed draws back in terror, 
She leans upon his neck 

To watch the flowing darkness; 
The bank is high and steep; 

One pause—he staggers forward, 
And plunges in the deep. 

She strives to pierce the blackness, 
And looser throws the rein; 

Her stead must breast the waters 
That dash above his mane. 

How gallantly, how nobly, 

He struggles through the foam, 

And see—in the far distance 
Shine out the lights of home! 

Up the steep banks he bears her, 
And now, they rush again 

Towards the heights of Bregenz 
That tower above the plain. 

They reach the gate of Bregenz, 
Just as the midnight rings, 

And out come serf and soldier 
To meet the news she brings. 

Bregenz is saved! Ere daylight 
Her battlements are manned; 

Defiance greets the army 
That marches on the land. 

And if to deed heroic 

Should endless fame be paid, 

Bregenz does well to honor 
The noble Tyrol maid. 


A LEGEND OF BREGENZ 


87 


Three hundred years are vanished, 

And yet upon the hill 
An old stone gateway rises, 

To do her honor still. 

And there, when Bregenz women 
Sit spinning in the shade, 

They see in quaint old carving 
The Charger and the Maid. 

And when, to guard old Bregenz, 

By gateway, street, and tower, 

The warder paces all night long 
And calls each passing hour; 

“Nine,” “ten,” “eleven,” he cries aloud, 

And then (O crown of Fame!) 

When midnight pauses in the skies, 

He calls the maiden’s name! 

—Adelaide Procter. 

THE BROTHERS 

Many legends have been told about the cities and castles 
along the Rhine River in Germany. The legends of The 
Brothers and The Lorelei are two of the most famous of these 
old stories. Read these legends over carefully and be prepared 
to tell the stories in your own words. Practise telling them to 
some one who has not heard or read them. 

Part I 

In the middle ages, an old knight belonging to the 
court of the Emperor Conrad II lived in a castle 
called Sternberg. The old warrior had two sons 
left to him. His wife had died many years before, 
and since her death, merry laughter had seldom been 
heard in the halls of the beautiful castle. 

Soon a ray of sunshine seemed to break into these 
solemn rooms; a distant cousin had died, leaving his 


88 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


only child, a beautiful young girl, to the care of 
his relative. 

The golden-haired Angela became the pet of the 
castle, and won the affection and friendship of the 
two sons by her engaging ways. What had already 
happened hundreds of times now happened among 
these young people, love replaced the friendship of 
the two young knights and both tried to win the 
maiden’s favor. 

The old master of the castle noticed this change, 
and his father’s heart forbode trouble. 

Both sons were equally dear to him, but perhaps 
his first-born, who had inherited his mother’s gentle 
character, fulfilled his heart’s desire more than the 
fiery spirit of Conrad the younger. 

From the first moment when the orphan appeared 
at his family seat, he had conceived the thought 
that his favorite son Henry, who was heir to his 
name and estates, would marry the maiden. 

Henry loved Angela with a profound, sincere feel¬ 
ing which he seldom expressed. 

His brother, on the contrary, made no secret of 
his love, and soon the old man noticed with sorrow 
that the beautiful girl returned his younger son’s 
love. Henry, too, was not unaware of the happiness 
of this pair, and in generous self-denial he tried to 
bury his grief, and to rejoice heartily in his brother’s 
success. 

The distress of the elder brother did not escape 
Angela. She was much moved when she first noticed 
that his voice trembled on pronouncing her name, 
but soon love dazzled her eyes, so that the clouds on 
his troubled countenance passed unnoticed by her. 

About this time St. Bernhard of Clairvaux came 


THE BROTHERS 


89 


from France to the Rhine, preaching a second 
crusade against the Turks, who had captured the 
Holy Land. The fiery words of the saintly monk 
roused many thousands to action; his appeal likewise 
reached the castle of Sternberg. 

Henry, though not envying his brother’s happi¬ 
ness, felt that it would be impossible for him to be a 
constant witness of it, and thus he was glad to 
answer this call, and to take up the cross. 

Conrad, too, longing for action and moved by the 
impulse of the moment, was stirred by the 
witching charms which a crusade to Palestine 
offered. His adventurous soul, cramped up in this 
castle so far removed from the world, thirsted for 
the adventures, which he imagined were awaiting 
the crusaders in the far-off East. In vain the 
tears and prayers of the young girl were shed, in 
vain was the sorrow of his father who begged him 
not to desert him. 

The old man was in despair about the unbending 
resolutions of his sons. 

“Who will remain at the castle of my forefathers 
if you both abandon it now, perhaps never to return,” 
cried he sorrowfully. “I implore you, my eldest 
son, you, the very image of your mother, to have 
pity on your father’s gray hairs. And you, Conrad, 
have pity on the tears of your betrothed.” The 
brothers remained silent. Then the eldest grasped 
the old man’s hand, saying gently, “I shall not leave 
you, my father.” 

“And you, Angela,” said the younger to the weep¬ 
ing maiden, “you will try to bear this separation, 
and will plant a sprig of laurel to make a wreath for 
me when I return.” 


90 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Part II 

The next day the young knight left the home of 
his forefathers. At first the maiden seemed incon¬ 
solable in her grief. But soon her love began to 
slumber like a tired child; on awakening from this 
drowsiness indignation seized her, whispering com- 
plainingly in her ear, and disturbing all the sweet 
memories in which the picture of her lighthearted 
lover gleamed forth, he who had parted from her for 
the sake of empty glory. 

Now left to herself, she began to consider the 
proud youth who was forced to live under the same 
roof with his rejected love. She admired his good 
qualities which all seemed to have escaped her before, 
his great daring at the chase, his skill with weapons, 
and his many kind acts of pure friendship to her, 
with the view of sweetening the bitter separation 
from which she was suffering. 

He seemed afraid of rousing the love which was 
sleeping in his heart. 

In the meantime Angela felt herself drawn more 
and more towards the knight; she wished to try to 
make him understand that her love for his younger 
brother had only been youthful passion, which 
seemed to have flown when he left her. She felt 
unhappy when she understood that Henry, whom 
she now began really to love, seemed to feel nothing 
but brotherly affection for her, and she longed in her 
inmost soul for a word of love from him. 

Henry was not unaware of this change in her affect- 
tions, but he proudly smothered every rising thought 
in his heart for his brother's betrothed. 

The old knight was greatly pleased when, one day, 
Angela, came to him, and with tears in her eyes 
disclosed to him the secret of her heart. 


THE BROTHERS 


9 * 


He prayed God fervently to bring these two loving 
hearts together whom he believed were destined for 
one another by will of God. 

In his dreams he already saw Angela in her castle 
like his dead wife and his first-born son, rocking her 
little baby, a blue-eyed, fair haired child. Then 
he would suddenly recollect his impetuous younger 
son fighting in the crusades, and his dreams would 
be hastily interrupted. 

Just opposite to his ancestral hall he caused a 
proud fort to be built, and called it “Liebenstein,” 
intending it for his second son when he returned 
from the Holy Land. The castle was hardly finished, 
when the old man died. 

The crusade at last was at an end. All the knights 
from the Rhine country brought back the news with 
them on their return from the Holy Land, that 
Conrad had married a beautiful Grecian woman in the 
East and was now on his way home with her. 

Henry was beside himself with wrath on hearing 
this news. Such dishonorable conduct and shameful 
neglect seemed impossible to him, and going to the 
maiden he informed her of his brother’s approaching 
return. 

She turned very pale, her lips moved, but her 
tongue found no words. 


Part III 

A large ship was seen one day sailing along the Rhine 
with strange flags waving on its masts. Angela saw 
it from her tower where she now spent many a long 
day reflecting on her unfortunate destiny, and she 
hastily called the elder brother. 

The ship approached nearer and nearer. Soon the 


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COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


cries of the boatmen could be heard, and the faces of 
the crew could be distinguished. 

Suddenly the maiden uttered a cry, and threw her¬ 
self weeping into the arms of the knight. The latter 
gazed at the vessel, his brows contracted. Yes! there 
on board, in shining armour, stood his brother, with 
a beautiful strange woman clinging to his arm. 

The ship touched land. One of the first, Conrad 
sprang on shore. The two watchers in the tower 
disappeared. A man approached Conrad and in¬ 
formed him that the new castle was destined for him. 
The same day the impetuous knight sent notice of 
his arrival to Sternberg castle, but his brother 
answered him, that he would wait for him on the 
bridge, but would only meet sword in hand the faith¬ 
less lover who had deserted his betrothed. 

Twilight was creeping over the two castles. On 
the narrow ground separating the forts the brothers 
strove together in a deadly fight. 

They were equally courageous, equally strong, 
these two opponents, and their swords crossed swiftly, 
one in righteous anger, and the other in wounded 
pride. But soon the elder received a blow, and the 
blood began to drop on his breastplate. 

The bushes were at this moment suddenly pushed 
asunder, and a maiden, veiled in white, dashed in 
between the fighters thrusting them from each other. 
It was Angela, who cried out in a despairing voice: 

“In God’s name stop! and for your father’s sake 
cease, ere it be too late. She for whom you have 
drawn your swords, is now going to take the veil, and 
beg God day and night to forgive you, Conrad, for 
your falseness, and will pray Him to bless you and 
your brother for ever.” 


THE BROTHERS 


93 


Both brothers threw down their arms. Conrad, his 
head deeply bowed, covered his face with his hand. 
He did not dare to look at the maiden who stood 
there, a silent reproach to him. Henry took the 
weeping girl's hand. 

“Come sister," said he, “such faithlessness does 
not deserve your tears." 

They disappeared among the trees. Silently Con¬ 
rad stood gazing after them. A feeling which he had 
never known seemed to rise up in his heart, and, 
bending his head, he wept bitterly. 

Part IV 

The cloister, Marienburg, lay in a valley at some 
distance from the castles, and there Angela found 
peace. A wall was soon built up between the two 
forts Sternberg and Liebenstein, a silent witness of 
the enmity between the two brothers. 

Banquet followed banquet in the newly built 
castle, and the beautiful Grecian won great triumphs 
among the knights of the Rhine. 

But sorrow seemed to have taken possession of 
Sternberg castle. Henry had not wished to move 
the maiden from her purpose, but from the time of 
her departure, his strength faded away. At the foot 
of the mountain he caused a cloister to be built, and 
a few months later he passed away from this world, 
just on the same day that the bells were tolling for 
Angela's death. 

The lord of Liebenstein was not granted a lasting 
happiness with his beautiful wife. She fled with a 
knight who had long enjoyed the hospitality at the 
castle Liebenstein. Conrad, overcome by sorrow and 
disgrace, threw himself from a pinnacle of the castle 
into the depths below. 


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COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


The strongholds then fell into the hands of the 
Knight Bromser of Tudesheim, and since that time 
have fallen into ruins. The church and cloister 
still remain in the valley, and are the scene of many 
a pilgrimage. 

THE LORELEI 
Part I 

Above Coblenz where the Rhine flows through 
hills covered with vineyards, there is steep rock, 
round which many a legend has been woven—the 
Lorelei Rock. The boatman gazes up at this gigantic 
summit with awful reverence when his boat glides 
over the waters at twilight. Like chattering children 
the restless waves whisper round the rock, telling 
wonderful tales of its doings. Above on its gray head, 
the legend relates that a beautiful but false nymph, 
clothed in white with a wreath of stars in her flowing 
hair, used to sit and sing sweet songs until a sad 
tragedy drove her forever away. 

Long, long ago, when Night in her dark garment 
descended from the hills, and her silent comrade, the 
the pale moon, cast a silver bridge over the deep 
green stream, the soft voice of a woman was heard 
from the rock, and a creature of divine beauty was 
seen on its summit. Her golden locks flowed like a 
queenly mantle from her graceful shoulders, covering 
her snowwhite raiment so that her tenderly-formed 
body appeared like a cloud of light. Woe to the 
boatman who passed the rock at the close of day! 
As of old, men were fascinated by the heavenly song 
of the Grecian hero, so was the unhappy voyager 
allured by this being to sweet forgetfulness, his eyes 
even as his soul, would be dazzled, and he could not 
longer steer clear of reefs and cliffs, and this beautiful 


THE LORELEI 


95 


siren only drew him to an early grave. Forgetting 
all else, he would steer towards her, already dreaming 
of having reached her; but the jealous waves would 
wash round his boat and at last dash him treacherous¬ 
ly against the rocks. The roaring waters of the Rhine 
would drown the cries of agony of the victim who 
would never be seen again. 

But the virgin to whom no one had ever ap¬ 
proached, continued every night to sing soft and low, 
till darkness vanished in the first rays of light, and 
the great star of day drove the gray mists from the 
valley. 


Part II 

Ronald was a proud youth and the boldest warrior 
at the court of his father. He heard of this divine, 
enchanting creature, and his heart burned with the 
desire to behold her. Before having seen the water- 
nymph, he felt drawn to her by an irresistible power. 

Under pretence of hunting, he left the court, and 
succeeded in getting an old sailor to row him to the 
rock. Twilight was brooding over the valley of the 
Rhine when the boat approached the gigantic 
* cliff; the departing sun had long sunk below the 
mountains, and now night was creeping on in silence; 
the evening star was twinkling in the deep blue 
firmament. Was it his protecting-angel who had 
it there as a warning to the deluded young man? 

He gazed at it in rapture for some time, until a low 
cry from the old man at his side interrupted him. 
“The Lorelei!” whispered he, startled, “do you 
see her—the enchantress?” The only answer was 
a soft murmur which escaped from the youth. With 
wide-open eyes he looked up and lo! there she was. 


9 6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Yes, this was she, this wonderful creature! A glor¬ 
ious picture in a dark frame. Yes, that was her 
golden hair, and those were her flowing white 
garments. 

She was hovering up above on the rocks combing 
her beautiful hair; rays of light surrounded her grace¬ 
ful head, revealing her charms in spite of the night 
and the distance and as he gazed, her lips opened, and 
a song thrilled through the silence, soft and plaintive 
like the sweet notes of a nightingale on a still summer 
evening. 

From her height she looked down into the hazy 
distance and cast at the youth a rapturous look 
which sank down into his soul, thrilling his whole 
frame. 

His eyes were fixed on the features of this celestial 
being where he read the sweet story of love. Rocks, 
stream, glorious night, all melted into a mist before 
his eyes, he saw nothing but the figure above, 
nothing but her radiant eyes. The boat crept along, 
too slowly for him, he could no longer remain in it, 
and if his ear did not deceive him, this creature 
seemed to whisper his name with unutterable sweet¬ 
ness, and calling to her, he dashed into the water. « 

A death-like cry echoed from the rocks . . . and 
the waves sighed and washed over the unhappy 
youth’s corpse. 

The old boatman moaned and crossed himself, 
and as he did so, lightning tore the clouds asunder, 
and a loud peal of thunder was heard over the 
mountains. Then the waves whispered gently below, 
and again from the heights above, sad and dying 
away, sounded the Lorelei’s song. 


THE LORELEI 


97 


























































9 8 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Part III 

The sad news was soon brought to his father, the 
count, who was overpowered with grief and anger. 
He ordered the false enchantress to be delivered to 
him, dead or alive. 

The next day a boat sailed down the Rhine, 
manned by four hardy bold warriors. The leader 
looked up sternly at the great rocks which seemed 
to be smiling silently down at him. He had asked 
permission to dash the enchantress from the top of 
the rocks into the foaming whirlpool below, where 
she would find a certain death, and the count had 
readily agreed to this plan of revenge. 

Part IV 

The first shades of twilight were gliding softly over 
mountain and hill. 

The rock was surrounded by armed men, and the 
leader, followed by some daring comrades, was climb¬ 
ing up the side of the mountain the top of which was 
veiled in a golden mist, which the men thought were 
the last rays of sunset. It was a bright gleam of 
light enshrouding the nymph who appeared on the 
rocks, dreamingly combing her golden hair. She 
then took a string of pearls from her bosom, and with 
her slender white hand bound them round her fore¬ 
head. She cast a mocking glance at the threatening 
men approaching her. 

“What are the weak sons of the earth seeking up 
here on the heights ?”said she, moving her rosy lips 
scornfully. 

“You sorceress!” cried the leader enraged, adding 
with a contemptuous smile, “You! We shall dash 
you down into the river below!” 


THE LORELEI 


99 


An echoing laugh was heard over the mountain. 
“Oh! the Rhine will come himself to fetch me!” 
cried the maiden. 


Then bending her slender body over the precipice 
yawning below, she tore the jewels from her forehead, 
hurling them triumphantly into the waters, while in 
a low sweet voice she sang:- 


Haste thee, haste thee O father dear! 

Send forth thy steeds from the waters clear. 
I will ride with the waves and the wind! 


Then a storm burst forth, the Rhine rose, covering 
its banks with foam. Two gigantic billows like 
snow-white steeds rose out of the depths, and carried 
the nymph down into the rushing current. 


Part V 

The terrified messengers returned to the count, 
bringing him the tidings of this wonderful event. 

Ronald, whose body a chance wave had washed on 
the banks of the river, was deeply mourned through¬ 
out the country. 

From this time forth, the Lorelei was never seen 
again. Only when night sheds her dark shadow on 
the hills, and the pale moon weaves a silver bridge 
over the deep green stream, then the voice of a 
woman, soft and low, is heard echoing from the 
weird heights of the rocks. 

-DR. RULAND 


The teacher had been trying to explain fractions 
to a class in arithmetic. Turning to Johnny, she 
said: 

“If you work eight hours a day, what part of the 
day do you work?” 

“The hottest/' replied Johnny, whose father was 
a farmer. —The American Boy . 


IOO 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


SPEED TEST III 

To the Pupil: At the signal given by the teacher you will 
start promptly to read the following selection. Read as rapidly 
as possible and draw a line under the last word you are reading 
when the teacher gives you the signal to stop. Count the 
number of words to find your speed per minute. 

To the Teacher: Allow exactly one minute for this speed 
test. Keep a record of the rate of reading for each pupil for 
comparison with future tests. 

THE CATHEDRAL CLOCK 

The Cathedral was finished, and the city magis¬ 
trates resolved to place an ingenious clock on the 
upper tower. For a long time they searched in vain, 
but at last a master was found who offered to create a 
work of art such as had never been seen in any land. 
The members of the council were highly satisfied 
with this proposal, and the master began his work. 

Weeks and months passed and when at last it 
was finished there was general astonishment; the 
clock was indeed so wonderful that nothing to match 
it could be found in the whole country. 11 marked no t 
only the hours but the days and months as well; 
a globe was attached to it which also marked out 
the rising and the setting of the sun, and the eclipses 
of that body and the moon could be seen at the 
same time as they took place in nature. Every 
change was pointed out by Mercury's wand, and 
every constellation appeared at the right time. 
Shortly before the stroke of the clock, a figure 
representing Death emerged from the centre at 
the full hour, while at the quarter and half hours 
the statue of Christ came forth repelling the destroyer 
of all life. Added to all these wonders was a beautiful 
chime that played melodious hymns. 


THE CATHEDRAL CLOCK 


IOI 


Such was the marvellous clock in the cathedral 
of Strassburg. The magistrates, however, proved 
themselves unworthy of their new possession; pride 
and presumption got the better of them, making 
them commit a most unjust and ungrateful action. 

They desired their town to be the only one in the 
land which possessed such a work of art, and in 
order to prevent the maker from making another 
like it, they did not shrink from the vilest of crimes. 

Taking advantage of the rumour that such a 
wonderful work could only have been made by the 
aid of witchraft, they accused the clockmaker of 
being united with the devil, threw him into prison, 
and cruelly condemned him to be blinded. The 
unhappy artist resigned himself to his bitter fate 
without a murmur. The only favour he asked was 
that he might be allowed to examine the clock once 
again before the judgement was carried out. He 
said he wanted to arrange something in the works 
which no one else could understand. 

The crafty magistrates, being anxious to have the 
clock perfect, granted him this request. 

The artist filed, sawed, regulated here and there, 
and then was led away, and in the same hour was 
deprived of his sight. 

The cruel deed was hardly accomplished, when it 
was found that the clock had stopped. The artist 
had destroyed his work with his own hands; his 
righteous determination that the chimes would 
never ring again, had become a melancholy truth. 
Up to the present no one has been able again to set 
the dead works going. An equally splendid clock 
now adorns the cathedral, but the remains of the first 
one have been preserved ever since. 


102 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


JOHN GILPIN’S RIDE 

“John Gilpin’s Ride” is not a great poem when taken as 
“literature” but it is one of our best known and best liked 
ballads, for it is full of rollicking fun and spirited action. The 
author, William Cowper, was a very shy, timid and melancholy 
man who as a boy at school was afraid to look his teachers and 
school mates in the face and knew some of them only by the 
buckles on their slippers. He was insane some of the time and 
was usually in a gloomy, despondent frame of mind. One 
friend, however, seems to have been able to cheer him when all 
others failed. This was a lively widow, Lady Austen by name, 
who one evening told Cowper the story of John Gilpin and 
asked him to write a ballad about him. Cowper was in a terrible 
fit of melancholy when Lady Austen told him the story, which 
proved to be better than medicine, for all night long chuckles 
and suppressed laughter issued from the poet’s room. The 
next morning at breakfast he recited the following poem which 
he had composed during the night and which had so much 
amused him. 

Read the story to enjoy the fun and then tell it to some one, 
trying to make him appreciate the humor of poor John’s 
predicament 

THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN 

John Gilpin was a citizen 
Of credit and renown, 

A trainband captain eke was he 
Of famous London Town. 

John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear, 

“Though wedded we have been 
These twice ten tedious years, yet we 
No holiday have seen. 

“Tomorrow is our wedding day. 

And we will then repair 


JOHN GILPIN’S RIDE 


103 


Unto the Bell at Edmonton, 

All in a chaise and pair. 

“My sister, and my sister's child, 

Myself, and children three, 

Will fill the chaise, so you must ride 
On horseback after we." 

He soon replied, “I do admire 
Of womankind but one, 

And you are she, my dearest dear, 
Therefore, it shall be done. 

“I am a linen-draper bold, 

As all the world doth know, 

And my good friend, the calender. 

Will lend his horse to go." 

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, “That's well said: 

And for that wine is dear, 

We will be furnished with our own. 

Which is both bright and clear.' 

John Gilpin kissed his loving wife; 

O'erjoyed was he to find 
That, though on pleasure she was bent, 

She had a frugal mind 

The morning came, the chaise was brought, 
But yet was not allowed 
To drive up to the door, lest all 
Should say that she was proud. 

So three doors off the chaise was stayed, 
Where they did all get in; 


104 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Six precious souls, and all agog 
To dash through thick and thin. 

Smack went the whip, ’round went the wheels, 
Were never folks so glad; 

The stones did rattle underneath 
As if Cheapside were mad. 

John Gilpin at his horse’s side 
Seized fast the flowing mane. 

And up he got, in haste to ride. 

But soon came down again; 

For saddle-tree scarce reached had he, 

His journey to begin, 

When, turning round his head, he saw 
Three customers come in. 

So down he came; for loss of time, 

Although it grieved him sore, 

Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 

Would trouble him much more. 

’Twas long before the customers 
Were suited to their mind, 

When Betty screaming came down stairs, 

'‘The wine is left behind!” 

“Good lack!” quoth he, “Yet bring it me, 

My leathern belt likewise, 

In which I bear my trusty sword 
When I do exercise.” 

Now Mrs. Gilpin, careful soul, 

Had two stone bottles found, 


JOHN GILPIN’S RIDE 


105 


To hold the liquor that she loved, 

And keep it safe and sound. 

Each bottle had a curling ear, 

Through which the belt he drew, 

And hung a bottle on each side, 

To make his balance true. 

Then, over all, that he might be 
Equipped from top to toe, 

His long red cloak, well brushed and neat. 
He manfully did throw. 

Now see him mounted once again, 

Upon his nimble steed, 

Full slowly pacing o'er the stones 
With caution and good heed. 

So “Fair and softly" John he cried. 

But John he cried in vain; 

That trot became a gallop soon, 

In spite of curb and rein. 

So stooping down, as needs he must 
Who cannot sit upright, 

He grasped the mane with both his hands. 
And eke with all his might. 

His horse, which never in that sort 
Had handled been before, 

What thing upon his back had got 
Did wonder more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or nought; 

Away went hat and wig; 


io6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


He little dreamed when he set out 
Of running such a rig. 

The wind did blow, the cloak did fly, 

Like streamer long and gay, 

Till, loop and button failing both, 

At last it flew away. 

Then might all people well discern, 

The bottles he had slung; 

A bottle swinging at each side, 

As hath been said or sung. 

The dogs did bark, the children screamed, 
Up flew the windows all, 

And every soul cried out, “Well done!” 

As loud as he could bawl. 

Away went Gilpin—who but he? 

His fame soon spread around; 

“He carries weight, he rides a race! 

’Tis for a thousand pound!” 

And still, as fast as he drew near, 

’Twas wonderful to view, 

How in a trice the turnpike men 
Their gates wide open threw. 

And now, as he went bowing down 
His reeking head full low, 

The bottles twain behind his back 
Were shattered at a blow. 

Down ran the wine into the road, 

Most piteous to be seen, 


JOHN GILPIN’S RIDE 


Which made his horse's flanks to smoke 
As they had basted been. 

But still he seemed to carry weight, 

With leathern girdle braced; 

For all might see the bottle necks 
Still dangling at his waist. 

Thus all through merry Islington 
These gambols he did play, 

Until he came unto the wash 
Of Edmonton so gay; 

And there he threw the wash about 
On both sides of the way, 

Just like unto a trundling mop, 

Or a wild goose at play. 

At Edmonton his loving wife 
From the balcony spied 

Her tender husband, wondering much 
To see how he did ride. 

“Stop, stop, John Gilpin! Here’s the house 
They all at once did cry; 

“The dinner waits and we are tired.” 

Said Gilpin, “So am I!” 

But yet his horse was not a whit 
Inclined to tarry there; 

For why? his owner had a house 
Full ten miles off, at Ware. 

So like an arrow swift he flew, 

Shot by an archer strong; 


io8 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


So did he fly—which brings me to 
The middle of my song. 

Away went Gilpin, out of breath, 

And sore against his will, 

Till, at his friend the calender’s, 

His horse at last stood still 

The calender, amazed to see 
His neighbor in such trim, 

Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate, 

And thus accosted him: 

“What news? What news? Your tidings tell; 
Tell me you must and shall; 

Say why bareheaded you are come, 

Or why you come at all?” 

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 

And loved a timely joke; 

And thus unto the calender, 

In merry guise, he spoke: 

“I came because your horse would come; 
And, if I well forebode, 

My hat and wig will soon be here:— 

They are upon the road.” 

The calender, right glad to find 
His friend in merry pin, 

Returned him not a single word, 

But to the house went in; 

Whence straight he came with hat and wig, 
A wig that flowed behind, 


JOHN GILPIN’S RIDE 


109 


A hat not much the worse for wear. 
Each comely in its kind. 

He held them up and in his turn 
Thus showed his ready wit: 

“My head is twice as big as yours, 
They, therefore, needs must fit. 

But let me scrape the dirt away 
That hangs upon your face; 

And stop and eat, for well you may 
Be in a hungry case.” 

Said John, “It is my wedding day, 

And all the world would stare, 

If wife should dine at Edmonton 
And I should dine at Ware.” 

So, turning to his horse, he said, 

“I am in haste to dine; 

’Twas for your pleasure you came here, 
You shall go back for mine.” 

Ah! luckless speech and bootless boast, 
For which he paid full dear; 

For while he spake, a braying ass 
Did sing most loud and clear; 

Whereat his horse did snort, as he 
Had heard a lion roar, 

And galloped off with all his might, 

As he had done before. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went Gilpin's hat and wig: 


no 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


He lost them sooner than at first; 

For why?—They were too big. 

Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw 
Her husband posting down 

Into the country far away, 

She pulled out half a crown; 

And thus unto the youth she said, 

That drove them to the Bell, 

“This shall be yours when you bring back 
My husband safe and well.” 

The youth did ride, and soon did meet 
John coming back amain; 

Whom in a trice he tried to stop 
By catching at his rein; 

But not performing what he meant 
And gladly would have done, 

The frightened steed he frightened more. 
And made him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 
Went postboy at his heels, 

The postboy's horse right glad to miss 
The lumbering of the wheels. 

Six gentlemen upon the road, 

Thus seeing Gilpin fly, 

With postboy scampering in the rear, 
They raised the hue and cry;— 

“Stop thief! A highwayman!" 

Not one of them was mute; 


JOHN GILPIN’S RIDE 


in 


And all and each that passed that way 
Did join in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike gates again 
Flew open in short space; 

The toll-men thinking as before. 

That Gilpin rode a race. 

And so he did, and won it too, 

For he got first to town; 

Nor stopped till where he had got up 
He did again get down. 

Now let us sing “Long live the King,” 

And Gilpin, long live he; 

And when he next doth ride abroad 
May I be there to see! 

—William Cowper. 


OUR DEBT 

Each one of us, who has an education, school or 
college, has obtained something from the community 
at large for which he or she has not paid, and no 
self-respecting man or woman is content to rest 
permanently under such an obligation. Where the 
State has bestowed education the man who accepts 
it must be content to accept it merely as a charity 
unless he returns it to the State in full in the shape 
of good citizenship. 


—Theodore Roosevelt. 


112 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


SEARCHING FOR INFORMATION 

If one is merely looking for the answer to a question which 
he expects to find in a certain article, he does not read every 
word until he comes to the required information but he skims 
over the article rapidly, reading a sentence in one place and a 
few words farther on to see what is discussed in each paragraph. 

The answers to the following questions are found in the 
article on “Bees in the Hive.” Skim over the article and find 
the answers as quickly as possible. See who is ready to answer 
all of the questions correctly in the shortest time. 

1. What are the three kinds of bees in a hive? 

2. What is the shape of a bee cell ? 

3. How does the care and food of a queen bee differ from 
that of a worker? 

4. What do the bees do when a second queen appears in a 
hive ? 

5. When the bees that are left in a hive do not care to form 
another swarm, how does the queen treat the other queen cells ? 

6. How many bees are there in a swarm? 

7. What great naturalist made a study of bees? How did 
he construct his hives so that he could observe them at work? 

8. How do bees ventilate their hives? 

9. How do bees care for the body of an intruder such as a 
snail which has been killed in the hive and which is too heavy 
to be moved? 

10. What finally happens to the drones of a bee hive? 

After finding the answers to these questions, read the whole 

article carefully because it contains much other interesting 
information. 


BEES IN THE HIVE 

I am going to ask you to visit with me today one 
of the most wonderful cities in the world. It is a 
city with no human beings in it, and yet it is densely 
populated, for such a city may contain from twenty 
thousand to sixty thousand inhabitants. In it you 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


11 3 

will find streets, but no pavements, for the in¬ 
habitants walk along the walls of the houses; while 
in the houses you will see no windows, for each house 
just fits its owner, and the door is the only opening in 
it. Though made without hands these houses are 
most evenly and regularly built in tiers one above 
the other, and here and there a few royal palaces, 
larger and more spacious than the rest, catch the 
eye conspicuously as they stand out at the corners of 
the streets. 

Some of the ordinary houses are used to live in, 
while others serve as storehouses where food is laid 
up in the summer to feed the inhabitants during the 
winter, when they are not allowed to go outside 
the walls. Not that the gates are ever shut: that 
is not necessary, for in this wonderful city each citizen 
follows the laws; going out when it is time to go out, 
coming home at proper hours, and staying at home 
when it is his or her duty. And in the winter, when 
it is very cold outside, the inhabitants, having no 
fires, keep themselves warm within the city by clus¬ 
tering together, and never venturing out of doors. 

One single queen reigns over the whole of this 
numerous population, and you might perhaps fancy 
that, having so many subjects to work for her and 
wait upon her, she would do nothing but amuse 
herself. On the contrary, she too obeys the laws 
laid down for her guidance, and never, except on one 
or two state occasions, goes out of the city, but works 
as hard as the rest in performing her own royal 
duties. 

From sunrise to sunset, whenever the weather is 
fine, all is life, activity, and bustle in this busy city. 
Though the gates are so narrow that two inhabitants 
can only just pass each other on their way through 


11 4 COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 

them, yet thousands go in and out every hour of the 
day; some bringing in materials to build new houses, 
others food and provisions to store up for the winter; 
and while all appears confusion and disorder among 
this rapidly moving throng, yet in reality each has her 
own work to do, and perfect order reigns over the 
whole. 

Even if you did not already know from the title 
of the lecture what city this is that I am describing, 
you would no doubt guess that it is a beehive. For 
where in the whole world, except indeed upon an 
anthill, can we find so busy, so industrious, or so 
orderly a community as among the bees ? More than 
a hundred years ago, a blind naturalist, Francois 
Huber,' set himself to study the habits of these won¬ 
derful insects, and with the help of his wife and an 
intelligent man-servant managed to learn most of 
their secrets. Before his time all naturalists had 
failed in watching bees, because if they put them in 
hives with glass windows, the bees, not liking the 
light, closed up the windows with cement before 
they began to work. But Huber invented a hive 
which he could open and close at will, putting a 
glass hive inside it, and by this means he was able 
to surprise the bees at their work. Thanks to his 
studies, and to those of other naturalists who have 
followed in his steps, we now know almost as much 
about the home of bees as we do about our own; 
and if we follow out to-day the building of a bee-city 
and the life of its inhabitants, I think you will 
acknowledge that they are a wonderful community, 
and that it is a great compliment to anyone to say 
that he or she is “as busy as a bee.” 

In order to begin at the beginning of the story, 
let us suppose that we go into a country garden one 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


”5 

fine morning in May when the sun is shining brightly 
overhead, and that we see hanging from the bough of 
an old apple-tree a black object which looks very 
much like a large plum pudding. On approaching 
it, however, we see that it is a large cluster or swarm 
of bees clinging to each other by their legs; each 
bee with its two fore-legs clinging to the two hinder 
legs of the one above it. In this way as many as 
20,000 bees may be clinging together, and yet they 
hang so freely that a bee,even from quite the center 
of the swarm, can disengage herself from her neigh¬ 
bors and pass through to the outside of the cluster 
whenever she wishes. 

If these bees were left to themselves, they would 
find a home after a time in a hollow tree, or under 
the roof of a house, or in some other cavity, and be¬ 
gin to build their honeycomb there. But since we 
do not wish to lose their honey we will bring a hive, 
and, holding it under the swarm, shake the bough 
gently so that the bees fall into it, and cling to the 
sides as we turn it over on a piece of clean linen, on 
the stand where the hive is to be. 

And now let us suppose that we are able to watch 
what is going on in the hive. Before five minutes 
are over the industrious little insects have begun to 
to disperse and to make arrangements in their new 
home. A number (perhaps about two thousand) 
of large, lumbering bees of a darker color than the 
rest, will, it is true, wander aimlessly about the hive, 
and wait for the others to feed them and house them; 
but these are the drones, or male bees, who never 
do any work except during one or two days in their 
whole lives. But the smaller working bees begin to 
be busy at once. Some fly off in search of honey. 
Others walk carefully all round the inside of the^hive 


ii 6 COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 

to see if there any cracks in it; and if there are, 
they go off to the horse-chestnut trees, poplars, 
hollyhocks, or other plants which have sticky buds, 
and gather a kind of gum called “propolis,” with 
which they cement the cracks and make them air 
tight. Others again cluster round one bee blacker 
than the rest and having a longer body and shorter 
wings; for this is the queen bee, the mother of the 
hive and she must be watched and tended. 



QUEEN _ DRONE _ WORKER, 


But the largest number begin to hang in a cluster 
from the roof just as they did from the boughs of 
the apple tree. What are they doing there? 
Watch for a little while and you will soon see one 
bee come out from among its companions and 
settle on the top of the inside of the hive, turning 
herself round and round, so as to push the other 
bees back, and to make a space in which she can 
work. Then she will begin to pick at the under 
part of her body with her forelegs, and will bring 
a scale of wax from a curious sort of pocket under 
her abdomen. Holding this wax in her claws, 
she will bite it with her hard, pointed upper jaws, 
which move to and fro sideways like a pair of pincers, 
then moistening it with her tongue into a kind of 
paste, she will draw it out like a ribbon and plaster 
it on the top of the hive. 

After that she will take another piece; for she 
has eight of these little wax-pockets, and she will 



BEES IN THE HIVE 


JI 7 


go on till they are all exhausted. Then she will 
fly away out of the hive, leaving a small wax lump 
on the hive ceiling or on the bar stretched across 
it; then her place will be taken by another bee who 
will go through the same maneuvers. This bee 
will be followed by another, and another, till a 
large wall of wax has been built. This wax does 
not yet have cells fashioned in it. 

Meanwhile the bees which have been gathering 
honey out of doors begin to come back laden. But 
they cannot store their honey, for there are no 
cells made yet to put it in; neither can they build 
combs with the rest, for they have no wax in their 
wax pockets. So they just go and hang quietly on 
to the other bees, and there they remain for twenty- 
four hours, during which time they digest the honey 
they have gathered, and part of it forms wax and 
oozes out from the scales under their body. Then 
they are prepared to join the others at work and 
plaster wax on to the hive. 

And now, as soon as a rough lump of wax is 
ready, another set of bees come to do their work. 
These are called the nursing bees , because they 
prepare the cells and feed the young ones. One of 
these bees, standing on the roof of the hive, begins 
to force her head into the wax, biting with her jaws 
and moving her head to and fro. Soon she has made 
the beginning of a round hollow, and then she 
passes on to make another, while a second bee 
takes her place and enlarges the first one. As many 
as twenty bees will be employed in this way, one 
after another, upon each hole before it is large 
enough for the base of a cell. 

Meanwhile another set of nursing bees have been 
working just in the same way on the other side 


118 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


of the wax, and so a series of hollows are made back 
to back all over the comb. Then the bees form the 
walls of the cells, and soon a number of six-sided 
tubes, about half an inch deep stand all along each 
side of the comb ready to receive honey or bee-eggs. 

You can see the shape of 
these cells in the figure and 
notice how closely they fit into 
each other. Even the ends are 
so shaped that, as they lie back 
to back, the bottom of one cell 
fits into the space between the ends of three cells 
meeting it from the opposite side while they fit into 
the spaces around it. Upon this plan the clever 
little bees fill every atom of space, use the least 
possible quantity of wax, and make the cells lie so 
closely together that the whole comb is kept warm 
when the young bees are in it. 



BEE CELLS 


There are some kinds of bees who do not live in 
hives, but each one builds a home of its own. These 
bees—such as the upholsterer bee, which digs a 
hole in the earth and lines it with flowers and leaves, 
and the mason bee, which builds in walls—do not 
make six-sided cells, but round ones, for room is no 
object to them. But nature has gradually taught 
the little hive-bee to build its cells more and more 
closely, till they fit perfectly within each other. 
If you make a number of round holes close together 
in a soft substance, and then squeeze the substance 
evenly from all sides, the rounds will gradually 
take a six-sided form, showing that this is the closest 
shape into which they can be compressed. Although 
the bee does not know this, yet, as she gnaws away 
every bit of wax that can be spared, she brings 
the holes into this shape. 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


ll 9 

As soon as one comb is finished, the bees begin 
another by the side of it, leaving a narrow lane 
between, just broad enough for two bees to pass 
back to back as they crawl along, and so the work 
goes on till the hive is full of combs. 

As soon, however, as a length of about five or six 
inches of the first comb has been made into cells, 
the bees which are bringing home honey no longer 
hang to make it into wax, but begin to store it in the 
cells. We all know where the bees go to fetch their 
honey, and how, when a bee settles on a flower, she 
thrusts into it her small tongue-like proboscis, which 
is really a lengthened under-lip, and sucks out the 
drop of honey. This she swallows, passing it down 
her throat into a honey-bag or first stomach, which 
lies between her throat and her real stomach, and 
when she gets back to the hive she can empty this 
bag and pass the honey back through her mouth 
again into the honey cells. 

But if you watch bees carefully, especially in 
the spring-time, you will find that they carry off 
something else besides honey. Early in the morning, 
when the dew is on the ground, or later in the day 
in moist, shady places, you may see a bee rubbing 
itself against a flower, or biting those bags of yellow 
dust or pollen. When she has covered herself with 
pollen, she will brush it off with her feet, and bringing 
it to her mouth, she will moisten and roll it into a 
little ball, and then pass it back from the first pair 
of legs to the second and so to the third or hinder 
pair. Here she will pack it into a little hairy groove 
called a “basket” in the joint of one of the hind legs, 
where you may see it, looking like a swelled joint, as 
she hovers among the flowers. She often fills both 
hind legs in this way, and when she arrives back 


120 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


at the hive the nursing bees take the lumps from 
her, and eat it themselves, or mix it with honey to 
feed the young bees; or, when they have any to 
spare, store it away in the old honey-cells to be used 
by-and-by. This is the dark, bitter stuff called 
“bee-bread” which you often find in a honeycomb, 
especially in a comb which has been filled late in the 
summer. 

When the bee has been relieved of the bee-bread 
she goes off to one of the clean cells in the new comb, 
and, standing on the edge, throws up the honey from 
the honey-bag into the cell. One cell will hold the 
contents of many honey-bags, and so the busy little 
workers have to work all day filling cell after cell, 
in which the honey lies uncovered, being too thick 
and sticky to flow out, and is used for daily food— 
unless there is any to spare, and then they close up 
the cells with wax to keep for the winter. 

Meanwhile, a day or two after the bees have 
settled in the hive, the queen bee begins to get very 
restless. She goes outside the hive and hovers about 
a little while, and then comes in again, and though 
generally the bees all look very closely after her to 
keep her indoors, yet now they let her do as she 
likes. Again she goes out, and again back, and then, 
at last, she soars up into the air and flies away. 
But she is not allowed to go alone. All the drones 
of the hive rise up after her, forming a guard of honor 
to follow her wherever she goes. 

In about half an hour she comes back again, and 
then the working bees all gather round her, knowing 
that now she will remain quietly in the hive and 
spend all her time in laying eggs; for it is the queen- 
bee who lays all the eggs in the hive. This she begins 
to do about two days after her flight. There are now 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


121 


many cells ready besides those filled with honey; and, 
escorted by several bees, the queen-bee goes to one 
of these, and, putting her head into it, remains there 
a second as if she were examining whether it would 
make a good home for the young bee. Then, coming 
out, she turns round and lays a small, oval, bluish- 
white egg in the cell. After this she takes no more 
notice of it, but goes on to the next cell and the 
next, doing the same thing, and laying eggs in all 
the empty cells equally on both sides of the comb. 
She goes on so quickly that she sometimes lays as 
many as 200 eggs in one day. 

Then the work of the nursing bees begins. In 
two or three days each egg has become a tiny maggot 
or larva, and the nursing bees put into its cell a 
mixture of pollen and honey which they have pre¬ 
pared in their own mouths, thus making a kind of 
sweet bath in which the larva lies. In five or six 
days the larva grows so fat upon this that it nearly 
fills the cell, and then the bees seal up the mouth 
of the cell with a thin cover of wax, made of little 
rings and with a tiny hole in the center. 

As soon as the larva is covered in, it begins to give 
out from its under-lip a whitish, silken film, made of 
two threads of silk glued together, and with this 
it spins a covering or cocoon all round itself, and so 
it remains for about ten days more. At last, just 
twenty-one days after the egg was laid, the young 
bee is quite perfect, lying in the cell, and she begins 
to eat her way through the cocoon and through the 
waxen lid, and scrambles out of her cell. Then the 
nurses come again to her, stroke her wings and feed 
her for twenty-four hours, and after that she is 
quite ready to begin work, and flies out to gather 
honey and pollen like the rest of the workers. 


122 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


By this time the number of working bees in the 
hive is becoming very great, and the storing of honey 
and pollen-dust goes on very quickly. Even the 
empty cells which the young bees have left are 
cleaned out by the nurses and filled with honey; 
and this honey is darker than that stored in clean 
cells, and which we always call ‘Virgin honey” 
because it is so pure and clear. 

At last, after six weeks, the queen leaves off 
laying worker-eggs, and begins to lay, in some 
rather larger cells, eggs from which drones, or male 
bees, will grow up in about twenty days. Meanwhile 
the worker-bees have been building on the edge of 
the cones some very curious cells which look like 
thimbles hanging with the open side upwards, 
and about every three days the queen stops laying 
drone-eggs and goes to put an egg in one of these 
cells. Notice that she waits three days between 
each of these peculiar layings, because we shall see 
presently that there is a good reason for her doing 
so. 

The nursing bees take great care of these eggs, 
and instead of putting ordinary food into the cell, 
they fill it with a sweet, pungent jelly, for this 
larva is to become a princess and a future queen-bee. 
Curiously enough, it seems to be the peculiar food 
and the size of the cell which makes the larva grow 
into a mother-bee which can lay eggs, for if a hive 
has the misfortune to lose its queen, they take one 
of the ordinary worker-larvae and put it into a 
royal cell and feed it with jelly, and it becomes a 
queen-bee. As soon as the princess is shut in like 
the others, she begins to spin her cocoon, but she 
does not quite close it as the other bees do, but leaves 
a hole at the top. 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


123 


At the end of sixteen days after the first royal 
egg was laid, the eldest princess begins to try to eat 
her way out of her cell, and about this time the 
old queen becomes very uneasy, and wanders about 
distractedly. The reason of this is, that there can 
never be two queen bees in one hive, and the queen 
knows that her daughter will soon be coming out 
of her cradle and will try to turn her off her throne. 
So, not wishing to have to fight for her kingdom, she 
makes up her mind to seek a new home and take 
a number of her subjects with her. If you watch 
the hive about this time you will notice many of the 
bees clustering together after they have brought 
in their honey, and hanging patiently, in order to 
have plenty of wax ready to use when they start, 
while the queen keeps a sharp lookout for a bright, 
sunny day, on which they can swarm; for bees will 
never swarm on a wet or doubtful day if they can 
possibly help it, and we can easily understand why, 
when we consider how the rain would clog their 
wings and spoil the wax under their bodies. 

Meanwhile the young princess grows very im¬ 
patient, and tries to get out of her cell, but the 
worker-bees drive her back, for they know there 
would be a terrible fight if the two queens met. So 
they close up the hole she has made with fresh w .x, 
having put in some food for her to live upon till he 
is released. 

At last a suitable day arrives, and about ten or 
eleven o'clock in the morning the old queen leaves 
the hive, taking with her about 2000 drones and 
from 12,000 to 20,000 worker-bees, which fly a little 
way clustering round her till she alights on the bough 
of some tree, and then they form a compact swarm 
ready for a new hive or to find a home of their own. 


124 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Leaving them to go their way, we will now return 
to the old hive. Here the liberated princess is reign¬ 
ing in all her glory; the worker bees crowd round her, 
watch over her, and feed her as though they could not 
do enough to show her honor. But still she is not 
happy. She is restless, and runs about as if looking 
for an enemy, and she tries to get at the remaining 
royal cells where the other young princesses are still 
shut in. But the workers will not let her touch them, 
and at last she stands still and begins to beat the air 
with her wings and to tremble all over, moving more 
and more quickly, till she makes quite a loud, piping 
noise. 

Hark! What is that note answering her? It is a 
low, hoarse sound, and it comes from the cell of the 
next eldest princess. Now we see why the young 
queen had been so restless. She knows her sister will 
soon come out, and the louder and stronger the sound 
becomes within the cell, the sooner she knows the 
fight will have to begin. And so she makes up her 
mind to follow her mother's example and to lead off a 
second swarm. But she cannot always stop to choose 
a fine day, for her sister is growing very strong and 
may come out of her cell before she is off. And so the 
second, or after swarm , gets ready and goes away. 
And this explains why princesses' eggs are laid a few 
days apart, for if they were laid all on the same day, 
there would be no time for one princess to go off with 
a swarm before the other came out of her cell. Some¬ 
times, when the workers are not watchful enough, two 
queens do meet, and then they fight till one is killed; 
or sometimes they both go off with the same swarm 
without finding each other out. But this only delays 
the fight till they get into the new hive; sooner or 
later one must be killed. 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


I2 5 


And now a third queen begins to reign in the old 
hive, and she is just as restless as the preceding ones, 
for there are still more princesses to be born. But 
this time, if no new swarm wants to start, the workers 
do not try to protect the royal cells. The young 
queen darts at the first she sees, gnaws a hole with her 
jaws, and, thrusting in her sting through the hole in 
the cocoon, kills the young bee while it is still a pri¬ 
soner. She then goes to the next, and the next, and 
never rests till all the young princesses are de¬ 
stroyed. Then she is contented, for she knows no 
other queen will come to dethrone her. After a few 
days she takes her flight in the air with the drones, 
and comes home to settle down in the hive for the 
winter. 

Then a very curious scene takes place. The 
drones are of no more use, for the queen will not 
fly out again, and these idle bees will never do any 
work in the hives. So the worker-bees begin to kill 
them, falling upon them, and stinging them to death, 
and as the drones have no stings they cannot defend 
themselves, and in a few days there is not a drone, 
nor even a drone-egg, left in the hive. This massacre 
seems very sad to us, since the poor drones have never 
done any harm beyond being hopelessly idle. But 
it is less sad when we know that they could not live 
many weeks, even if they were not attacked, and, 
with winter coming, the bees cannot afford to feed 
useless mouths, so a quick death is probably happier 
for them than starvation. 

And now all the remaining inhabitants of the hive 
settle down to feeding the young bees and laying 
in the winter's store. It is at this time, after they 
have been toiling and saving, that we come and take 
their honey; and from a well stocked hive we may 


126 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


even take thirty pounds without starving the in¬ 
dustrious little inhabitants. But then we must 
often feed them in return and give them sweet 
syrup in the late autumn and the next early spring 
when they cannot find any flowers. 

Although the hive has now become comparatively 
quiet and the work goes on without excitement, 
yet every single bee is employed in some way, either 
out of doors or about the hive. Besides the honey 
collectors and the nurses, a certain number of bees 
are told off to ventilate the hive. You will easily 
understand that where so many insects are packed 
closely together the heat will become very great, 
and the air impure and unwholesome. And the bees 
have no windows that they can open and let in fresh 
air, so they are obliged to fan it in from the one 
opening of the hive. The way in which they do this 
is very interesting. Some of the bees stand close to 
the entrance, with their faces towards it, and opening 
their wings, so as to make them into fans, they wave 
them to and fro, producing a current of air. Behind 
these bees, and all over the floor of the hive, there 
stand others, this time with their backs toward the 
entrance, and fan in the same manner, and in this 
way air is sent into all the passages. 

Another set of bees clean out the cells after the 
young bees are born, and make them fit to receive 
honey, while others guard the entrance of the hive 
to keep away the destructive wax-moth, which tries 
to lay its eggs in the comb so that its young may feed 
on the honey. All industrious people have to guard 
their property against thieves and vagabonds, and 
the bees have many intruders, such as wasps and 
snails and slugs, which creep in whenever they get 
a chance. If they succeed in escaping the sentinel 


BEES IN THE HIVE 


127 


bees, then a fight takes place within the hive, and the 
invader is stung to death. 

Sometimes, however, after they have killed the 
enemy, the bees cannot get rid of his body, for a 
snail or slug is too heavy to be easily moved, and 
yet it would make the hive very unhealthy to allow 
it to remain. In this dilemma the ingenious little 
bees fetch the gummy “propolis” from the plant- 
buds and cement the intruder all over, thus embalm¬ 
ing his body and preventing it from decaying. 

And so the life of this wonderful city goes on. 
Building, harvesting, storing, nursing, ventilating, 
and cleaning from morn till night, the little worker- 
bee lives for about eight months, and in that time 
has done quite her share of work in the world. Only 
the young bees, born late in the season live on, till 
the next year to work in the spring. The queen-bee 
lives longer, probably about two years, and then she 
too dies, after having had a family of many thousands 
of children. 

—From a Lecture 
By Arabella B. Buckley. 


TRUE OR FALSE 

Number your lines to correspond to the number of groups. 
Read statement number one and write true or false on line one 
of your paper. You are to decide whether the statement is true 
or false. Your teacher will time you. 

Write your name and grade at the bottom of your paper. 

1. Abraham Lincoln set the negroes free. 

2. Columbus was our first President. 

3. Water is always healthful. 

4. There are three seasons. 

5. Everyone likes the color blue. 


128 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


THE HOUSE FLY 

The presence of flies is an indication of unclean¬ 
liness and unsanitary conditions. They are not only 
annoying but are sometimes actually dangerous to 
health, because they may carry disease germs to 
the food which we eat. It is therefore important to 
know where and how they are bred so that we may 
get rid of the substances in which their eggs are laid. 

There are several kinds of flies which are found in 
houses. One of these, the biting stable fly, is often 
mistaken for the true house fly. It differs from the 
the house fly in having its mouth parts formed for 
piercing the skin. The true house fly is a medium¬ 
sized fly with black stripes on its back. The house 
fly can not bite because its mouth parts are spread 
out at the tip for sucking up liquid substances. 

The eggs of the house fly are laid upon horse 
manure and on decaying vegetables and meat. In 
order that the fly may not have a place to raise its 
young, all manure and decaying garbage of every 
sort should not be allowed to be exposed where the 
fly can lay its eggs. 

The eggs of the house fly hatch in less than 
24 hours. The little worm-like larvae which come 
from the eggs are called maggots. They grow very 
rapidly and usually complete their growth in the 
larva stage in about four or five days. 

The full grown larvae then crawl under some loose 
material or burrow into the soil and enter what is 
called the pupa (or sleeping) stage which lasts from 
3 to 10 days. In this stage the fly is inactive while 
the larva is changed into the adult fly. 

After the adult fly emerges from the pupa stage, 
it crawls about until its wings expand and are dry 


THE HOUSE FLY 


129 


enough for flight. In a few days the adult female 
fly is ready to begin laying eggs. 

Thus under favorable conditions a new generation 
of flies can be produced in from 11 to 14 days. This 
rapid development of the fly allows the formation 
of from 6 to 15 generations of flies every summer, 
depending upon the length and intensity of the hot 
weather. 

The common belief that the house fly lives 
through the winter as an adult, hiding in cracks 
and crevices of buildings, has been shown to be 
incorrect. Under outdoor conditions house flies are 
killed when the temperature falls to about 10 degrees 
above zero on the Fahrenheit thermometer. In 
rooms and similar places protected from winds and 
partially heated during the winter flies have been 
kept alive in cages for long periods of time; but 
they have never lived through the entire winter. 

The house fly passes the winter in the larva or 
pupa stage. In the spring they emerge from the 
manure heaps where they spent the winter. The 
house fly can also pass the winter by producing new 
offspring from time to time if they are in heated 
rooms and have access to garbage which is suitable 
for rearing the larvae. It is necessary therefore that 
we destroy all garbage in winter as well as in the 
summer. 

The body of the house fly is covered with hairs and 
bristles of various lengths. This is especially true of 
the legs. Thus when it crawls over material con¬ 
taining disease germs, the hairs become loaded with 
these germs. Then the fly crawls over human foods 
on the table or in the pantry and often leaves some 
of these germs on the food. Typhoid fever and many 


1 3 ° 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


other dangerous diseases are transmitted to people 
in this manner. 

Fly traps may be used to advantage in decreasing 
the number of flies. Their use is advocated not only 
because of the immediate results but also because of 
the chance that the flies may be caught before they 
lay their first batch of eggs. A trap which is very 
efficient in catching flies may be made as follows: 



Conical hoop flytrap; side view. A> Hoops forming frame at bottom. B> Hoops 
forming frame at top. C , Top of trap made of barrel head. D, Strips around door. 
E, Door frame. F, Screen on door. G, Buttons holding door. H , Screen on outside of 
trap. I y Strips on side of trap between hoops. Tips of these strips projecting to form 
legs. K, Cone. L, United edges of screen forming cone. M y Aperture at apex of cone. 
(Bishopp.) 










































































THE HOUSE FLY 


“The trap consists essentiaiiy of a screen cylinder 
with a frame made of barrel hoops, in the bottom of 
which is inserted a screen cone. The height of the 
cylinder is 24 inches, the diameter 18 inches, and 
the cone is 22 inches high, and 18 inches in diameter 
at the base. Material necessary for this trap consists 
of four new or secondhand wooden barrel hoops, one 
barrel head, four laths, 10 feet of strips 1 to inches 
wide by one-half inch thick (portions of old boxes 
will suffice), 61 linear inches of 12 or 14 mesh gal¬ 
vanized screening 24 inches wide for the sides of the 
trap and 41 inches of screening 26 inches wide for 
the cone and door, an ounce of carpet tacks, and 
two turn buttons, which may be made of wood.” 
The cost of the material for this trap is not great, and 
in many cases the barrel hoops, barrel head, lath, and 
strips can be obtained without expense. 

“In constructing the trap two of the hoops are 
bent in a circle (18 inches in diameter on the inside), 
and nailed together, the ends being trimmed to give 
a close fit. These form the bottom of the frame 
(yf), and the other two, prepared in a similar way, 
the top ( B ). The top (C) of the trap is made of an 
ordinary barrel head with the bevel edge sawed off 
sufficiently to cause the head to fit closely in the 
hoops and allow secure nailing. A square, 10 inches 
on the side, is cut out of the center of the top to form 
a door. The portions of the top (barrel head) are 
held together by inch strips (D) placed around the 
opening one-half inch from the edge to form a jamb 
for the door. The door consists of a narrow frame 
(£) covered with screen (F) well fitted to the trap and 
held in place (not hinged) by buttons (G). The top 
is then nailed in the upper hoops and the sides (H) 
formed by closely tacking screen wire on the outside 


132 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


of the hoops. Four laths (/) (or light strips) are nailed 
to the outside of the trap to act as supports between 
the hoops, and the ends are allowed to project i inch 
at the bottom to form legs (J). The cone ( K ) is cut 
from the screen and either sewed with fine wire or 
soldered where the edges meet at L . The apex of the 
cone is cut off to give and aperture (M) I inch in di¬ 
ameter. It is then inserted in the trap and closely 
tacked to the hoop around the base.”. 

To get the best results with this trap, you must use 
an attractive bait. In a saucer of milk put some 
crushed overripe bananas. Place this saucer of bait 
under the fly trap. A mixture of 3 parts of water 
and 1 part of cheap molasses which has been allowed 
to ferment for a day or two also makes a very 
attractive bait. After the flies have eaten some of the 
bait, they fly up in the screen cone and go through 
the opening into the trap. In a few days the flies will 
die on account of lack of food and the trap may then 
be emptied through the door in the top. 

THINGS FOR YOU TO DO 

1. Build a flytrap from the description given in this book. 

2. Help organize an anti-fly crusade in your community and 
get every man, woman and child in your community to help 
in this work by swatting every fly that they see. 

ACUTE HEARING 

Two students on a train were telling about their 
ability to see and hear. The one said: “Do you see 
that barn over there on the horizon ?” 

“Yes.” 

“Can you see that fly walking around on the roof 
of that barn?” 

“No, but I can hear the shingles crack when he 
steps on them.” 

—The American Boy 


ORIGIN OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES 


*33 


ORIGIN OF OUR WEIGHTS AND MEASURES 

To the pupil: Prepare a set of questions on this article. 
Select the most important points for your questions, leaving out 
some of the unimportant details. Be ready to answer the 
questions prepared by other pupils. 

You have probably wondered why our English 
system of weights and measures has so many different 
numbers as multipliers. For example 12 inches 
equal a foot; 3 feet equal a yard; 53^ yards equal a 
rod; and 320 rods equal a mile. This is due to the 
peculiar way in which these measures originated. 

In the early days of England the length of three 
grains of barley placed end to end in a straight line 
was called an inch. The foot was taken as the length 
of the foot of one of the early English kings and the 
yard was taken as the length of his arm. Finally the 
yard was taken as the standard unit of length. It was 
divided into three equal parts which corresponded 
in length to the old measure of the foot. Each foot 
was further divided into twelve equal parts which 
were practically the same as the old unit of the inch. 

The farmers of England used an old unit of length 
called the furlong. This came from plowing the 
fields and is a contraction of “furrow-long.” This 
unit is seldom used in our country at the present 
time. In the early days of England when the plowing 
was done with slow and heavy oxen, the amount 
that a man could plow in a day was called an acre. 
Later this unit of measuring land was made to equal 
160 square rods. 

The origin of the units of weight is equally interest¬ 
ing. Our unit of the pound was formerly obtained 
from the weight of 7000 grains of wheat. This is still 
kept in our system of avoirdupois weight in which 


*34 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


7000 grains make a pound even though we do not use 
the grains of wheat themselves. As a matter of 
convenience people made lead or iron weights 
which were equal in weight to the 7000 grains of 
wheat. Half-pound and quarter-pound weights were 
prepared in a similar manner. 

The abbreviation for the word ounce was formerly 
<9, the initial letter of the word. It was followed by 
an old mark which was used following the letter to 
show that it was a sign of abbreviation. This mark 
was mistaken for the letter Z which it resembled and 
because of this mistake oz. became the abbreviation 
for ounce. 

The stone is an old English unit of weight. It is 
equal to 14 pounds. This unit of weight, though not 
in use in our country, is still used in some parts of 
Scotland and England. A boy in Glasgow, who 
weighs 94 pounds, has his weight expressed as 6 stone 
10, meaning 6 stones and 10 pounds. 

The gallon , our unit of liquid measure, takes its 
name from an old French wine jar or bowl. The 
gill, which is now seldom used in this country, was 
a wine measure. The gill has been discarded as a 
a unit of measure and the cup (or half-pint) has 
taken its place. 

On account of each nation’s having different units 
of weights and measures and also on account of the 
inconvenience of changing some of these units to 
others of the same table, a Congress was called 
which included representatives of all the nations of 
the world. This body of men devised the metric 
system of weigh ts and measures. The metric system 
is very convenient to use because 10 units of one 
kind make one unit of the next larger unit. 


ORIGIN OF WEIGHTS AND MEASURES 135 

The meter is the unit of length in the metric 
system. It is equal to about 39.37 inches. A 
thousand meters equal a kilometer. The kilometer is 
used to measure distances between cities. 

The liter , which equals 1.057 quarts, is the unit 
of capacity in the metric system. Instead of a 
French family's buying quarts of milk, they buy 
liters of milk. 

The gram and kilogram are the two most commonly 
used units of weight in the metric system. The 
kilogram is equal to 2.204 pounds. 

All of the great nations of the world except the* 
United States and the British Empire have adopted 
the metric system. It is in use in both England and 
the United States in scientific work. 


WORDS OPPOSITE IN MEANING 

You are to have two more lines on your paper than there are 
groups below. Write your name on line one and your grade on 
line two. Select the word in parenthesis in each group which 
is opposite in meaning to the first word. 

1. Down (away, up, far, near) 

2. Near (up, far, away, here) 

3. Work (play, idle, loaf) 

4. Walk (sleep, sing, run, stop) 

5. True (honest, false, faithful) 


*36 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


SIMPLE OUTLINING 

One of the best ways to remember an article or a 
story is to make a plan or outline of the chief things 
told in the selection. A simple outline consists of 
the main headings or “guide-posts” of the selection 
and should always be expressed in titles which do not 
contain verbs. 

The biography of James Watt is here outlined 
simply and briefly as a suggestion as to how such 
an article may be treated. Note the outline first 
♦to see what you are to be informed about, when you 
have read this biography. Then read the story of 
Watt's work rapidly but carefully. Again go back to 
the outline and compare it with the account of his life. 

After thus teaching yourself something about 
outlines and their use, turn back to the outline and 
with it as a guide, give as complete and orderly a 
report on the life of James Watt as you can. This 
report may be either oral or written as the teacher 
directs. 

Outline of “James Watt, the Famous Inventor.” 

I. Introduction. 

II. Birth and early life. 

A. Place. 

B. Time. 

C. Education. 

III. Preparation for life work. 

A. In Glasgow. 

B. In London. 

IV. Partners and patents. 

A. Dr. Roebuck. 

B. Matthew Boulton. 

C. Difficulties. 


SIMPLE OUTLINING 


137 


V. Success. 

A. Inventions and improvements. 

B. Financial returns. 

VI. Conclusion. 

A. Watt’s death. 

B. His workshop. 

Note: You will see that in this outline Roman numerals 
are used for the main headings and capital letters for the 
sub-headings. This order might have been reversed and 
capital letters have been used for the main headings while the 
sub-headings were numbered. The point is to keep your 
outline regular or consistent. 

JAMES WATT, THE FAMOUS INVENTOR 

Have you ever watched the steam pouring from 
the spout of a teakettle? Many, many years ago a 
little Scotch lad became interested in playing with 
his mother's teakettle. He would hold a cup or a 
spoon over the end of the spout and watch the steam 
raise the lid of the teakettle. Thousands of other 
boys had probably watched their mothers' teakettles 
but it remained for James Watt to harness the power 
of steam in an engine and make it drive the machin¬ 
ery of our mines and factories. 

James Watt was born in the little city of Greenlock, 
Scotland in 1736. He was a very delicate boy and 
was too frail to attend a regular school. He obtained 
a good education at home, his mother teaching him 
to read and his father instructing him in penmanship 
and arithmetic. He early showed his mechanical 
ability by taking his toy carpenter tools to pieces and 
making different tools out of them. Before he was 
fifteen years old he had constructed various kinds of 
machines. One of these was an electrical toy with 
which he delighted to shock his friends. 

When James was eighteen years of age, he went 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


138 

to Glasgow to learn the trade of making mathemati¬ 
cal instruments. Being unable to secure a place in a 
shop where mathematical instruments were made, 
he accepted a position with a man who made fishing 
tackle, mended violins, and sold spectacles. He 
soon found that he could learn very little in this 
shop and decided to go to London to look for a posi¬ 
tion. 

When James Watt arrived in London, he found it 
very difficult to secure employment. Finally he 
offered to work for a watchmaker, without wages, 
until he could find the kind of position that he 
wanted. At last he found a position in a shop where 
the owner, Mr. Morgan, agreed to teach him his 
trade for one hundred dollars per year. In order to 
pay for this instruction James worked at various odd 
jobs before and after his regular day’s work. 

After completing his course with Mr. Morgan, he 
went to Glasgow where he established a shop in one 
of the rooms in the college. In order to make a 
living he mended musical instruments, spectacles, 
and various other articles. 

One of his friends in the college suggested to 
him that he make a steam carriage. Watt went to 
work and in a short time had a model worked out 
for a steam engine. He was already in debt, however, 
and did not have money enough to construct a full- 
sized engine. His friends persuaded an iron dealer* 
Dr. Roebuck, to go into partnership with him to 
improve his model and to build steam engines. 

Watt finally secured a patent for his steam engine. 
A patent is a written permit issued by the govern¬ 
ment. It prevents any one else from making a 
machine like the one made by the inventor without 


JAMES WATT FAMOUS INVENTOR 


l 39 


securing his permission. The full sized engine which 
Watt constructed was poorly cast and leaked steam 
at some of the joints. Unfortunately his partner, 
Dr. Roebuck, ran badly into debt at the same time 
and Watt was forced to look around for another 
partner. In order to make a living for himself and 
family he went back to surveying. To add to his 
discouragement his wife died at this time. He was 
very much down-hearted and wrote to a friend, 
“To-day I enter the thirty-fifth year of my life, and 
I think I have hardly yet done thirty-five pence 
worth of good in the world.” 

About nine years after Watt had secured the patent 
on his engine, a wealthy manufacturer, Matthew 
Boulton, of Birmingham went into partnership with 
Watt. Watt was to receive one-third of all the 
profits from the sale of his engines. 

The first engine that was made was a success and 
orders came in rapidly for others. The Russian 
Government heard about his invention and offered 
him a salary equal to five thousand dollars a year if 
he would come to that country. Watt refused this 
offer and remained with his partner. 

Others soon discovered the principle of the steam 
engine and began to make engines similar to those 
constructed by Boulton and Watt. They had to sue 
these rival manufacturers to prevent them from using 
their patent. Watt made some improvements on his 
engine and large orders began to come in from all 
parts of England and her colonies. After a long 
hard struggle Watt had finally gained wealth and 
success. 

He built a beautiful home at Heathfield and enter¬ 
tained some of the most famous men in England. 
In addition to the steam engine, Watt invented a 


140 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


letter-copying press. There was soon a great 
demand for this machine. It added to the profits 
of the firm. 

James Watt lived to be eighty-three years old. 
His workshop in the garret of his home has been 
left just as it was when he died. If you ever go to 
England, you must visit the home of the inventor of 
the steam engine. 


HOW A STEAM ENGINE WORKS 

Have you ever watched a steam engine and 
wondered how it works? It is not very difficult to 
understand how an engine runs if you see a diagram 
of its principal parts. 

Every engine must have a boiler . Here a hot 
fire drives a portion of the water in the boiler off in 
the form of steam. As more and more steam 
accumulates, the steam presses out on all parts of 
the boiler. 

A pipe from the boiler conducts the steam to the 
steam-chest . In this steam-chest there is a valve 
V which allows the steam to enter one end of the 
cylinder. This pushes the piston P toward the other 
end of the cylinder. Any steam which is on the 



CYLINDER, 





















HOW A STEAM ENGINE WORKS 


other side of the piston is allowed to escape through 
the exhaust pipe which leaves the chamber under the 
valve V. 

When the piston P is driven to the opposite end 
of the cylinder, the valve is quickly moved so as to 
close the first opening and allow the steam to enter 
opposite end of the cylinder. The valve V is run by 
an eccentric rod which moves only at certain times. 
This eccentric rod is fastened to a cam shaft . When 
you are looking at a steam engine, ask the engineer to 
explain just how the cam shaft moves the eccentric 
rod at just the right time. 

The piston rod is connected to the shaft which runs 
the machinery. 

The more steam that is allowed to enter the steam 
steam chest and the greater the pressure of the steam, 
the faster the engine will run. James Watt invented 
a governor to regulate the 
amount of steam which is 
allowed to enter the steam- 
chest. If the engine is run¬ 
ning fast, the balls swing out 
and the steam is partly shut 
off. The engine then runs 
slower and the balls of the 
governor begin to fall. This 
opens up the steam valve 
and allows more steam to enter the steam-chest, 
thus increasing the speed of the engine. 

i. Draw a diagram of the steam-chest, the valve V, and 
the piston P when the piston is at the right end of the cylinder. 

1 . Name all of the principal parts of a steam engine and 
give the use of each. 






I 4 2 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


MOZART, THE FAMOUS COMPOSER 

Preceding the article entitled “James Watt and the Steam 
Engine,” you were given a simple outline as a suggestion to 
follow in selecting the outstanding facts of an article. The 
account of Mozart is a similar article which you are to read 
and then outline for yourself. After the class have completed 
their outlines, several outlines will be put on the board for 
discussion. See if yours can be among the best ones offered. 

In the quaint old city of Salzburg, Austria, in 
1756 was born a child to whom they gave the un¬ 
usual name of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. This 
little boy was destined to become one of the most 
unusual and talented musicians and composers of 
music that the world has known. 

His father was a good musician, especially gifted 
in playing the violin, and Wolfgang had a sister, 
Maria Anna, who at first gave promise of being as 
great a genius as her brother. Before Wolfgang was 
five years old, he had composed several pieces which 
astonished his elders so that when he was six years 
old his father took him and Maria Anna on a concert 
tour to Vienna where they played before the 
Empress Maria Theresa, who held the little boy in 
her arms and kissed him heartily, so delighted was 
she with this delicate, sensitive, and talented child. 
The children romped and played with the little 
princess Marie Antoinette who afterwards became 
Queen of France, and had a remarkably pleasant 
time at court. 

One day when Mozart was walking by Marie 
Antoinette on the highly polished floor, he slipped 
and fell. The little princess helped him to rise 
whereupon he exclaimed, “You are very kind; I will 
marry you,” an unconsciously bold remark which 


MOZART THE FAMOUS COMPOSER 


l 43 

alarmed Mozart’s father but greatly delighted the 
lovely princess, who kissed him for the compliment. 

The following year he was taken to Paris where he 
and his sister sat at the royal table, played before 
the court, were praised by kings and by queens, and 
showered with gifts. From here they went to London 
where they again excited the wonder and admiration 
of all. The father wrote home that royalty had 
given them enough gold snuff boxes to set up a shop 
but that in money they were very poor. The little 
boy was now seized with inflammatory fever and 
then with small-pox and from that time on, was ill 
much of the time. His ardor for composing con¬ 
tinued, however, and often when confined to his 
bed, he would have a board put across his lap and 
write out in notes new pieces of music. 

When Mozart was ten years old the archbishop of 
Salzburg doubting the genius of the boy and wanting 
to test it, shut him in a room for a week to write an 
oratorio. Mozart stood the test nobly and removed 
all doubt from the mind of the cold archbishop, who 
rewarded him with the paltry salary of five and a 
quarter dollars a year. 

When fourteen years of age, Wolfgang was taken 
to Italy to study. Soon after his arrival he went to 
the Cistine Chapel to hear the famous “Miserere” 
which was held so sacred that the musicians were 
forbidden to take home any of the music or to copy 
any of it. Wolfgang, as soon as he reached his 
lodgings, sat down and wrote all of it from memory, 
an accomplishment so great that all Rome talked 
about this wonderful lad. His playing was so remark¬ 
able that the people of Naples thought that a ring he 
wore on his left hand was bewitched and he was 
obliged to remove it. 


*44 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


When but fifteen years of age, he composed the 
opera “Mithridate,"conducted it himself for twenty 
nights in succession, and thus added to his fame but 
little to his purse for people were not educated to 
pay for music of the high type that he wrote. In all 
he wrote 769 compositions during his short lifetime 
of thirty-five years, and all of his works were 
filled with charming melody. 

When he was twenty-six he married a penniless, 
good-hearted but weak girl of eighteen to whom he 
had taught music. For her and their family of 
six children he labored ceaselessly day and night for 
nine years. The publishers wanted him to write 
“popular” music, but he refused, saying that if he 
had to lower his ideals by catering to the popular 
taste, he could make no more money by his pen and 
that he had better starve and go to destruction at 
once. So poor did he and his family become that on 
one occasion a friend who called one winter day found 
Mozart and his wife waltzing round the room. “We 
were cold,” they said, “and were dancing to keep 
warm. We have no wood to make a fire.” 

Shortly before his death, Mozart was asked to com¬ 
pose a requiem, or funeral song for the wife of a noble¬ 
man, for fifty dollars. He accepted the offer, but tired 
out from overwork, worried by debts, hurt by the 
jealousies and scheming of rival musicians, his ordin¬ 
arily hopeful good cheer forsook him and he told his 
wife that the Requiem would be written for himself. 
On the day before his death, he asked that his friends 
sing the requiem for him and as they did so, he 
joined in singing alto to the masterpiece. Shortly 
after the singing, a messenger was announced, who 
came with the news that Mozart had been appointed 
organist at St. Stephen's Cathedral, a position for 


MOZART THE FAMOUS COMPOSER 


H5 


which he had longed for years. But the messenger 
came too late; death was upon him. He said, “Now 
I must go, just as I should be able to live in peace. 
I must leave my family, my poor children, at the 
very instant in which I should have been able to 
provide for their welfare.” 

On his funeral day a great storm arose and only the 
undertaker and his men went to the cemetery to see 
him buried. This remarkable man died so poor 
that his body had to be put into a pauper's grave, or 
into a “common grave” where so many other coffins 
lay. Weeks after, when the frail wife was able to 
visit the spot, she found a new grave digger who could 
not tell where Mozart was buried, and to this day, no 
one knows his burial spot. The Emperor Leopold 
aided the wife in a concert to raise fifteen hundred 
dollars to pay expenses and debts. 

After half a century the town of Salzburg erected a 
bronze statue to her famous genius, in the public 
square, while seventy years after Mozart's death 
Vienna built a monument in his honor in the cem¬ 
etery of St. Mark. “He filled the world with music 
yet died in want and sorrow.” It is truly pathetic 
to think that this hard working and remarkable 
genius could not have been appreciated and reward¬ 
ed before his death. 


A SUGGESTION FOR YOUR MUSIC PERIOD 

Perhaps some one of the class can play a selection composed 
by Mozart or you can get a Victrola record of one of his beauti¬ 
ful pieces of music. As you hear these pieces, think of the 
brave man who composed them. 


146 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


A BOY WHO USED HIS BRAIN 

Prepare a set of questions on this article which will bring 
out the important facts of the selection. Also select five of the 
most difficult words in the selection and look up their meanings. 
Submit both questions and words to the teacher as a basis for 
the class discussion on this article. 

In the year 1870 a white-faced anaemic boy of 
twelve years ran, breathless, trembling and even 
more pallid than usual, into his home on Twentieth 
Street in New York City. 

“There is no need for you to hurry,” his mother 
warned him, “and you must never run like that. You 
are not strong enough to run like other boys.” 

The boy made no reply but his cheeks became red 
at once, not with health but with secret shame. To 
his way of thinking there had been a very great need 
of hurrying, of running his best, for he was being 
chased by some tough boys who were anxious to roll 
him and his pretty clothes in the muddy gutter, and 
to give him a pummeling on “general principles,” 
because he was so well dressed, so pale, so slight, and 
so timid—an easy little chap to frighten and to bully. 

Not so very long ago in a quiet little cemetery in 
Oyster Bay, Long Island, was buried one of the most 
famous, most rugged, brave, adventurous outdoor 
Americans in our history—ex-cowboy, Rough Rider, 
fearless soldier, ranchman, big game hunter, explorer, 
former United States President. 

Theodore Roosevelt, of course! 

What live, wide-awake American boy has not 
admired him, worshiped him as a hero, and longed 
to emulate him in all the wonderful adventures of 
his wonderful life? 


A BOY WHO USED HIS BRAIN 


*47 

Yet at twelve—at fifteen, he was extremely sickly. 
“Puny” was the word they used, and his people were 
sorely afraid that he would never live to grow to 
manhood. At the age of twelve he was taken to 
Egypt at the advice of physicians in hopes that his 
life might be spared, but he seemed no better when 
he came back. He was better, however, for he had 
come to a great decision—he would become a 
famous naturalist, he would be a professor in a col¬ 
lege and would go all over the world exploring and 
having adventures—he would get a salary for being 
a naturalist and thus be paid for doing the thing 
he wanted most to do. 

There was no doubt about this desire. He has 
recorded it himself, his people knew about it quite 
well, his trunks while abroad and his room at home 
were filled with a great assortment of what mothers 
call “trash.” These were his “Specimens”—strange, 
pressed flowers, minerals, shells—all sorts of things. 
The boy Theodore suddenly realized that he could 
not go on scientific expeditions into the Arctic and 
down into the tropics unless he were strong and 
healthy—the books on such subjects that he had read 
taught him that. He knew that he wasn’t healthy— 
he was not so large or strong or ruddy as boys 
of his age, or as many boys considerably younger 
than he. To become a great naturalist he must 
become a strong man. To become a strong man 
he must exercise, get out of doors and be in the fresh 
air. This was simple enough; anyone knew that 
fresh air and good exercise would help build up the 
body more than all the doctors in the world. 

Besides—this would enable him not only to 
become a naturalist, but it would enable him to be 
as strong as other boys, so that he need not run and 
be cowardly. 


148 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Was the late Theodore Roosevelt ever cowardly? 
We have his own word for it—it was the cowardice 
brought on by fear of bodily harm, of pain. He 
fought against it—in his own story of himself he 
admits that he had not entirely conquered that 
sort of cowardice at the age of twenty-six when 
he went out to North Dakota. 

But the pale-faced, thin-limbed lad of twelve used 
his brains—he must be big and strong and he must 
get out of doors and exercise. His good mother 
naturally sought to protect her weakling boy—to 
shield him, to wrap him up like a fragile thing. But 
at fifteen, or soon after, when he got away from home 
and entered Harvard College, he had more opportun¬ 
ity to get out and take strenuous exercise. He was 
not strong then. 

“I really preferred the warm corner by the fire¬ 
place and a good book, one of the sea stories or Indian 
stories or a book on nature, to getting out of doors,” 
he once said of himself. Yet he went in for sports. 
Because of wearing glasses he could not play baseball, 
but he began to ride horseback; he could row and 
he could remove his glasses and see well enough at 
close quarters to box. Boxing being the most 
strenuous exercise and the one that he still feared 
most, he fairly steeled himself into it and stood up 
and took the painful blows when his innermost 
desire was to duck and back away. It has been 
said that Harvard University never turned out an 
amateur boxer equal to Theodore Roosevelt. 

At twenty-one he was graduated from Harvard. 
He was not a brilliant scholar, but just average. 
He was not a leader in sports, but fair in some, 
excelling in boxing. He took up the study of law. 
His father died, and while authorities do not agree 


A BOY WHO USED HIS BRAIN 


149 


as to the exact amount of money left to the boy it 
was between $50,000 and $100,000. 

“This being tied down to a desk in a law office 
will be the death of me. I must be out in the open 
more/' he told his uncle, who promptly took him to 
a noted politician and asked him to help the young¬ 
ster along in politics. At the age of twenty-four he 
was elected to the state legislature. But he wasn't 
getting as rugged as he wished. At eighteen he 
grew side whiskers to make his face look more round 
and full, to hide his thin cheeks and the paleness of 
his face. At twenty-four he had scarcely changed. 
After serving for two years in the legislature he had 
an opportunity to go still further in politics but he 
had never forgotten his boyhood plan—to get strong 
by outdoor life. He had given up his plan to be a 
naturalist—it was a boyish whim such as so many 
have. 

But the exercise he had forced himself to take 
when a boy, the encounters with other boys that he 
forced himself to meet instead of run away from, had 
helped him. Yet he needed more of the great out¬ 
doors, not the outdoors of the city streets but the 
real outdoors. He somewhat shocked his relatives 
when he declared that he was going “out West and 
be a cowboy." 

“Surely, Theodore," they said to him, “you are 
not serious. Only little boys dream such dreams." 

“I’m a little boy yet. I need more strength, more 
health. I am going to set aside just one-half of the 
money my father left me and spend it in building up 
my body, in living in the open." 

That is exactly what Theodore Roosevelt did. 

“There was sufficient money to keep me com- 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


































































































A BOY WHO USED HIS BRAIN 


151 

fortably here,” he once said, “but I would not have 
lived a very long life and surely never a useful life. 
I wanted the comfortable library and warm fire and 
books and specimens—but I needed more rich red 
blood and hard muscles, so I went West and became 
a cowboy and ranchman.” 

For more than two years he lived in the wilds of 
North Dakota—and it was indeed wild back in 1884. 
He owned a string of horses—regular terrors, difficult 
to ride; he slept out with his saddle for a pillow with 
the other herders; he rode in the round-up; he hunted 
grizzlies and mountain sheep; he fished—and when 
he was through he was at last what he wanted to be— 
he possessed muscles of steel, his cheeks were ruddy 
with health, and he was able to go back and live 
the strenuous life that he so constantly preached 
about. 

Books could be written—have been written—of 
the exploits of Theodore Roosevelt—his boxing 
bouts, his bear hunting in the Southern canebrakes, 
his bobcat hunting in Colorado, his fighting in the 
Spanish War—his daily exercise while President, 
his elephant, tiger and lion hunting in Africa, his 
explorations in South America at an age when most 
men feel that they should sit in the corner with cane 
and skullcap and await the end. 

Here was a weakling, the sort of boy that the 
average boy pities deeply, yet laughs at. The boy 
knew that he was a weakling, he found himself 
cowardly and blushed for himself, he used his 
brains—the solution was to be found only in the 
great outdoors. As a lad of fifteen he thought this 
out—with results that all the world knows. 

All the world mourned his going, and, above the 
fact that he was an Ex-President of this country, 


152 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


above the fact that he was a soldier, politician and 
author, every newspaper and every magazine and 
everything that gave publicity to his going, noted 
these two things—he led a clean life and he was the 
greatest Outdoor American. 

—Judson D. Stuart. 

Courtesy of The American Boy. 


THREE RULES FOR YOUNG AND OLD 

Edward Everett Hale, who is famous for having 
written “The Man Without A Country,” gave 
these three rules which may help you to build strong. 

First of all, make it a rule to he out of doors for some 
definite portion of every twenty-four hours . Nature 
is a great teacher, and the foundation of all large 
success is health, which she offers freely to those 
who walk in her meadows and woods. 

“Second, make it a point to rub elbows every day 
with your fellow men. We live in a democracy, 
and no man can expect large usefulness in a democ¬ 
racy who lives to himself. Only by knowing your 
fellows, working with them, and letting their fellow¬ 
ship and influence work on you, can you expect to 
achieve really first class success. 

“And finally, make it a rule to spend some time every 
day with someone who knows more than you do. A 
live man if you can find him, or a man of a former 
generation, speaking through a great book. No 
man grows except as he reaches out and up. Don't 
spend your life with those who know less than you 
do or only as much; expose yourself regularly to the 
inspiration and education of bigger, more mature 
minds.” 


THE GOOD SAXON ALFRED THE GREAT 153 


SPEED TEST IV 

At various places in the selection called “Alfred the Great” 
you will notice small numbers following a word. These indicate 
the number of words up to that point. At a signal from the 
teacher, you are to start reading and read for two minutes, 
when time will be called. Place a check mark (V) after the 
last word read, count on from the last number given, and give 
your total number of words read to your teacher for her record. 

Your rate of reading may be determined as in Test III. 

Have you increased your speed? 

THE GOOD SAXON, ALFRED THE GREAT 

Alfred the Great was a young man, three and 
twenty years of age, when he became king. Twice 
in his childhood he had been taken to Rome, where 
the Saxon nobles were in the habit of going on 
journeys which they supposed to be religious; and, 
once, he had stayed for some time in Paris. Learn¬ 
ing, however, was so little cared for, then, that at 
twelve years old he had not been taught to read; 
although, of the sons of King Ethelwulf, he, the 
youngest, was the favorite. But he had—as most 
men who grow up to be great 100 and good are generally 
found to have had—an excellent mother; and, one 
day, this lady, whose name was Osburga, happened, 
as she was sitting among her sons, to read a book of 
Saxon poetry. The art of printing was not known 
until long and long after that period, and the book, 
which was written, was what is called “illuminated,” 
with beautiful bright letters, richly painted. The 
brothers admiring it very much, their mother said, 
“I will give it to that one of you four princes who 
first learns to read.” Alfred sought out a tutor 
that very day, applied 200 himself to learn with great 
diligence, and soon won the book. He was proud 
of it all his life. 


154 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


This great king, in the first year of his reign, 

fought nine battles with the Danes. He made 

some treaties with them too, by which the false 
Danes swore they would quit the country. They 
pretended to consider that they had taken a very 
solemn oath, in swearing this upon the holy bracelets 
that they wore, and which were always buried with 
them when they died; but they cared little for it, 
for they thought nothing of breaking oaths and 
treaties 300 too, as soon as it suited their purpose, and 
coming back again to fight, plunder, and burn, as 

usual. One fatal winter, in the fourth year of 

King Alfred’s reign, they spread themselves in great 
numbers over the whole of England; and so dispersed 
and routed the King’s soldiers that the King was 
left alone, and was obliged to disguise himself as a 
common peasant and to take refuge in the cottage 
of one of his cowherds who did not know his face. 

Here, King Alfred, while the .Danes sought him far 
and near, was left alone one day, by 400 the cowherd’s 
wife, to watch some cakes which she put to bake upon 
the hearth. But, being at work upon his bow and 
arrows, with which he hoped to punish the false 
Danes when a brighter time should come, and 
thinking deeply of his poor unhappy subjects whom 
the Danes chased through the land, his noble mind 
forgot the cakes, and they were burnt. “What!” 
said the cowherd’s wife, who scolded him well when 
she came back, and little thought she was scolding 
the King, “you will be ready enough to eat them 
by-and-by, and yet you cannot 500 watch them, idle 
dog!” 

At length, the Devonshire men made head against 
a new host of Danes who landed on their coast: 
killed their chief, and captured their flag; on which 


THE GOOD SAXON ALFRED THE GREAT 155 


was represented the likeness of a Raven—a very 
fit bird for a thievish army like that, I think. The 
loss of their standard troubled the Danes greatly, 
for they believed it to be enchanted—woven by the 
three daughters of one father in a single afternoon— 
and they had a story among themselves that when 
they were victorious in battle, the Raven stretched 
his wings and seemed to 600 fly; and that when they 
were defeated, he would droop. He had good reason 
to droop now, if he could have done anything half 
so sensible: for, King Alfred joined the Devonshire 
men; made a camp with them on a piece of firm 
ground in the midst of a bog in Somersetshire; and 
prepared for a great attempt for vengeance on the 
Danes, and the deliverance of his oppressed people. 

But, first, as it was important to know how 
numerous those pestilent Danes were, and how 
they were fortified, King Alfred, being a good musi¬ 
cian, disguised himself as a glee-man 700 or minstrel, 
and went, with his harp, to the Danish camp. He 
played and sang in the very tent of Guthrum, the 
Danish leader, and entertained the Danes as they 
caroused. While he seemed to think of nothing 
but his music, he was watchful of their tents, their 
arms, their discipline, everything that he desired 
to know. And right soon did this great king enter¬ 
tain them to a different tune; for, summoning all 
his true followers to meet him at an appointed 
place, where they received him with joyful shouts 
and tears, as the monarch whom many of them 
had 800 given up for lost or dead, he put himself at their 
head, marched on the Danish camp, defeated the 
Danes with great slaughter, and besieged them for 
fourteen days to prevent their escape. But, being 
as merciful as he was good and brave, he then. 


156 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


instead of killing them, proposed peace: on condition 
that they should altogether depart from that Western 
part of England, and settle in the East; and that 
Guthrum should become a Christian, in remembrance 
of the Divine religion which now taught his con¬ 
queror, the noble Alfred, to forgive the enemy who 
had so often injured him 900 . This, Guthrum did. At 
his baptism King Alfred was his godfather. And 
Guthrum was an honorable chief who well deserved 
that clemency; for, ever afterwards he was loyal 
and faithful to the king. The Danes under him were 
faithful too. They plundered and burned no more, 
but worked like honest men. They ploughed, and 
sowed, and reaped, and led good honest English 
lives. And I hope the children of those Danes 
played, many a time, with Saxon children in the 
sunny fields; and that the Danish young men fell 
in love with Saxon girls, and married them; and 
that English 1000 travellers, benighted at the doors of 
Danish cottages, often went in for shelter until 
morning; and that Danes and Saxons sat by the 
red fire as friends, talking of King Alfred the Great. 

All the Danes were not like these under Guthrum: 
for, after some years, more of them came over, 
in the old plundering and burning way—among them 
a fierce pirate of the name of Hastings, who had the 
boldness to sail up the Thames to Gravesend, with 
eighty ships. For three years, there was war with 
these Danes; and there was a famine in the country, 
too, and 1100 a plague, both upon human creatures and 
beasts. But King Alfred, whose mighty heart never 
failed him, built large ships nevertheless, with which 
to pursue the pirates on the sea; and he encouraged 
his soldiers, by his brave example, to fight valiantly 
against them on the shore. At last, he drove 


THE GOOD SAXON ALFRED THE GREAT 157 


them all away; and then there was repose in 
England. 

As great and good in peace, as he was great and 
good in war, King Alfred never rested from his 
labors to improve his people. He loved to talk 
with clever men, and with travellers from foreign 
countries, and 1200 to write down what they told him, 
for his people to read. He had studied Latin after 
learning to read English, and now another of his 
labors was, to translate Latin books into the English- 
Saxon tongue, that his people might be interested, 
and improved by their contents. He made just 
laws, that they might live more happily and freely; 
he turned away all partial judges that no wrong 
might be done by them; he was so careful of their 
property, and punished robbers so severely, that it 
was a common thing to say that under the great 
King Alfred , 1300 garlands of golden chains and jewels 
might have hung across the streets, and no man 
would have touched one. He founded schools; he 
patiently heard causes himself in his Court of 
Justice; the great desires of his heart were, to do 
right to all his subjects, and to leave England better, 
wiser, happier in all ways than he found it. His 
industry in these efforts was quite astonishing. 
Every day he divided into certain portions, and in 
each portion devoted himself to a certain pursuit. 
That he might divide his time exactly, he had wax 
torches or candles made, which were all of the same 
size, were notched across at regular distances, and 
were always kept burning. Thus, as the candles 
burned down, he divided the day into notches, almost 
as accurately as we now divide it into hours upon 
the clock. But when the candles were first invented, 
it was found that the wind and draughts of air, 


i 5 8 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


blowing into the palace through the doors and 
windows, and through the chinks in the walls, 
caused them to gutter and burn unequally. To 
prevent this, the King had them put into cases formed 
of wood and white horn. And these were the first 
lanthorns (lanterns) ever made in England. 

All this time, he was afflicted with a terrible 
unknown disease, which caused him violent and 
frequent pain that nothing could relieve. He bore 
it, as he had borne all the troubles of his life, like 
a brave, good man, until he was fifty-three years 
old; and then, having reigned thirty years, he died. 
He died in the year nine hundred and one; but long 
ago as that is, his fame, and the love and gratitude 
with which his subjects regarded him, are freshly 
remembered to the present hour. 

—From Dickens' “A Child's History of England." 


“Be cheerful! Give this lonesome world a smile! 
We stay at longest but a little while. 

Hasten we must or we shall lose the chance 
To give the gentle word, the kindly glance. 

Be sweet and tender. That is doing good. 

’Tis doing what no other good deed could. 

— Ananymous. 


To the Pupil: See how quickly you can memorize this 
helpful little poem. 


SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA 


l S9 


THE SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA 

Savages we call them, because their manners 
differ from ours, which we think the perfection of 
civility; they think the same of theirs. 

Perhaps if we could examine the manners of 
different nations with impartiality we should find 
no people so rude as to be without any rules of 
politeness, or none so polite as not to have some 
remains of rudeness. 

The Indian men, when young, are hunters and 
warriors; when old, counselors; for all their govern¬ 
ment is by the counsel or advice of the sages. There 
is no force, there are no prisons, no officers to compel 
obedience or to inflict punishment. Hence they 
generally study oratory, the best speaker having the 
most influence. The Indian women till the ground, 
dress the food, nurse and bring up the children and 
preserve and hand down to posterity the memory 
of public transactions. These employments of 
men and women are accounted natural and honor¬ 
able. Having few artificial wants, they have abun¬ 
dance of leisure for improvement by cdnversation. 
Our laborious manner of life, compared with theirs, 
they esteem slavish and base; and the learning on 
which we value ourselves they regard as frivolous 
and useless. An instance of this occurred at the 
treaty of Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, in the year 
1744, between the government of Virginia and 
the Six Nations. After the principal business was 
settled, the commissioners from Virginia acquainted 
the Indians by a speech that there was at Williams¬ 
burg a college, with a fund for educating Indian 
youth; and that if the chiefs of the Six Nations 
would send down half a dozen of their sons to that 


i6o 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


college, the government would take care that they 
should be well provided for and instructed in all 
the learning of the white people. It is one of the 
Indian rules of politeness not to answer a public 
proposition the same day that it is made; they think 
it would be treating it as a light matter, and that 
they show it respect by taking time to consider it 
as of a matter important. They therefore deferred 
their answer till the day following, when their 
speaker began by expressing their deep sense of the 
kindness of the Virginia government in making them 
that offer; “for we know,” says he, “that you highly 
esteem the kind of learning taught in those colleges, 
and that the maintenance of our young men while 
with you would be very expensive to you. We are 
convinced, therefore, that you mean to do us good 
by your proposal, and we thank you heartily. But 
you, who are wise, must know that different nations 
have different conceptions of things; and you will 
therefore not take it amiss if our ideas of this kind 
of education happen not to be the same with yours. 
We have had some experience of it. Several of our 
young people were formerly brought up at the 
colleges of the northern provinces; they were in¬ 
structed in all your sciences; but when they came 
back to us they were bad runners, ignorant of every 
means of living in the woods, unable to bear either 
cold or hunger, knew neither how to build a cabin, 
take a deer, nor kill an enemy, spoke our language 
imperfectly; were therefore neither fit for hunters, 
warriors, nor counselors—they were therefore totally 
good for nothing. We are, however, not the less 
obliged by your kind offer, though we decline 
accepting it; and to show our grateful sense of it, 
if the gentlemen of Virginia will send us a dozen 


SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA 


161 


of their sons we will take great care of their education, 
instruct them in all we know, and make men of 
them.” 

Having frequent occasions to hold councils, they 
have acquired great order and decency in conducting 
them. The old men sit in the foremost ranks, the 
warriors in the next, and the women and children 
in the hindmost. The business of the women is to 
take exact notice of what passes, imprint it in their 
memories (for they have no writing), and communi¬ 
cate it to their children. They are the records of 
the council, and they preserve the tradition of the 
stipulations in treaties a hundred years back; which, 
when we compare with our writings, we always 
find exact. He that would speak rises. The rest 
observe a profound silence. When he has finished 
and sits down, they leave him five or six minutes to 
recollect that if he has omitted anything he intended 
to say or has anything to add, he may rise again 
and deliver it. To interrupt another, even in 
common conversation, is reckoned highly indecent. 
How different this is from the conduct of a polite 
British House of Commons, where scarce a day passes 
without some confusion, that makes the Speaker 
hoarse calling to order; and how different from the 
mode of conversation in many polite companies of 
Europe, where, if you do not deliver your sentence 
with great rapidity, you are cut off in the middle 
of it by the impatient loquacity of those you con¬ 
verse with and never suffered to finish it. 

The politeness of these savages in conversation 
is indeed carried to excess, since it does not permit 
them to contradict or deny the truth of what is 
asserted in their presence. By this means they 
indeed avoid disputes; but then it becomes difficult 


162 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


to know their minds or what impression you make 
upon them. The missionaries who have attempted 
to convert them to Christianity all complain of 
this as one of the great difficulties of their mission. 
The Indians hear with patience the truths of the 
Gospel explained to them and give their usual tokens 
of assent and approbation. You would think they 
were convinced. No such matter. It is mere civility. 

A Swedish minister having assembled the chiefs 
of the Susquehanna Indians made a sermon to them, 
acquainting them with the principal historical facts 
on which our religion is founded—such as the fall 
of our first parents by eating an apple, the coming 
of Christ to repair the mischief, his miracles and 
suffering, etc. When he had finished an Indian 
orator stood up to thank him. “What you have 
told us,” said he, “is all very good. It is indeed 
bad to eat apples. It is better to make them all 
into cider. We are much obliged for your kindness 
in coming so far to tell us those things which you 
have heard from your mothers. In return, I will 
tell you some of those we have heard from ours. 
Tn the beginning our fathers had only the flesh of 
animals to subsist on, and if their hunting was 
unsuccessful they were starving. Two of our young 
hunters having killed a deer made a fire in the woods 
to boil some parts of it. When they were about 
to satisfy their hunger, they beheld a beautiful 
young woman descend from the clouds and seat 
herself on that hill which you see yonder among the 
Blue Mountains. They said to each other, Tt is a 
spirit that perhaps has smelt our broiling venison and 
wishes to eat of it; let us offer some to her.' They 
presented her with the tongue; she was pleased with 
the taste of it and said: ‘Your kindness shall be 


SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA 163 

rewarded; come to this place after thirteen moons, 
and you will find something that will be of great 
benefit in nourishing you and your children to the 
latest generations/ They did so, and to their 
surprise found plants they had never seen before, 
but which from that ancient time have been con¬ 
stantly cultivated among us to our great advantage. 
Where her right hand had touched the ground they 
found maize; where her left had touched it they 
found kidney-beans.” The good missionary, dis¬ 
gusted with this idle tale, said: “What I delivered to 
you were sacred truths; but what you tell me is 
mere fable, fiction, and falsehood.” The Indian, 
offended, replied: “My brother, it seems your friends 
have not done you justice in your education; they 
have not well instructed you in the rules of common 
civility. You saw that we, who understand and 
practice those rules, believed all your stories; why 
do you refuse to believe ours?” 

When any of them come into our towns our people 
are apt to crowd them, gaze upon them, and incom¬ 
mode them where they desire to be private; this they 
esteem great rudeness and the effect of the want of 
instruction in the rules of civility and good manners. 
“We have,” say they, “as much curiosity as you, 
and when you come into our towns we wish for 
opportunities of looking at you; but for this purpose 
we hide ourselves behind bushes where you are to 
pass and never intrude ourselves into your company.” 

Their manner of entering one another's village has 
likewise its rules. It is reckoned uncivil in traveling 
for strangers to enter a village abruptly without 
giving notice of their approach. Therefore as soon 
as they arrive within hearing they stop and halloo, 
remaining there until invited to enter. Two old men 


164 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


usually come out to them and lead them in. There 
is in every village a vacant dwelling, called the 
strangers’ house. Here they are placed, while the 
old men go round from hut to hut acquainting the 
inhabitants that strangers have arrived, who are 
probably hungry and weary; and every one sends 
them what he can spare of victuals and skins to 
repose on. When the strangers are refreshed, pipes 
and tobacco are brought; and then, but not before, 
conversation begins, with inquiries who they are, 
whither bound, what news, etc., and it usually ends 
with offers of service, if the strangers have occasion 
for guides, or any necessaries for continuing their 
journey; and nothing is exacted for the entertain¬ 
ment. 

The same hospitality, esteemed among them as a 
principal virtue, is practised by private persons, 
of which Conrad Weiser, our interpreter, gave me 
the following instance. He had been naturalized 
among the Six Nations and spoke well the Mohawk 
language. In going through the Indian country, to 
carry a message from our governor to the council at 
Onondaga, he called at the habitation of Canassetego, 
an old acquaintance, who embraced him, spread 
furs for him to sit on, and placed before him some 
boiled beans and venison and mixed some rum and 
water for his drink. When he was well refreshed 
and had lit his pipe, Canassetego began to converse 
with him; asked him how he had fared the many years 
since they had seen each other, whence he then came, 
what occasioned the journey, etc. Conrad answered 
all his questions, and when the discourse began to 
flag the Indian, to continue it, said: “Conrad, you 
have lived long among the white people and know 
something of their customs. I have been sometimes 


SAVAGES OF NORTH AMERICA 


65 


at Albany, and have observed that once in seven 
days they shut up their shops and assemble all in 
the great house. Tell me what it is for. What do 
they do there?” 

“They meet there,” says Conrad, “to hear and 
learn good things.” 

“I do not doubt,” says the Indian “that they 
tell you so—they have told me the same; but I doubt 
the truth of what they say, and I will tell you my 
reasons. I went lately to Albany to sell my skins and 
buy blankets, knives, powder, rum, etc. You know 
I used generally to deal with Hans Hanson, but 
was a little inclined this time to try some other 
merchants. However, I called first upon Hans and 
asked him what he would give for beaver. He 
said he could not give any more than four shillings 
a pound; ‘but/ says he, ‘I cannot talk on business 
now; this is the day when we meet together to learn 
good things, and I am going to meeting/ So I 
thought to myself, 'Since I cannot do any business 
to-day, I may as well go to the meeting too,' and I 
went with him. There stood up a man in black 
and began to talk to the people very angrily. I did 
not understand what he said; but perceiving that he 
looked much at me and at Hanson, I imagined he 
was angry at seeing me there; so I went out, sat 
down near the house, struck fire and lit my pipe, 
waiting till the meeting should break up. I thought, 
too, that the man had mentioned something of 
beaver, and I suspected it might be the subject of 
their meeting. So when they came out I accosted 
my merchant. 'Well, Hans,’ says I, ‘I hope you 
have agreed to give more than four shillings a 
pound/ 'No/ says he; ‘I cannot give so much; I 
cannot give more than three shillings and sixpence/ 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


166 

I then spoke to several dealers; but they all sang the 
same song—three and sixpence—three and sixpence. 
This made it clear to me that my suspicion was right; 
and that whatever they pretended of meeting to 
learn good things the real purpose was to consult 
how to cheat Indians in the price of beaver. Consider 
but a little, Conrad, and you must be of my opinion. 
If they met so often to learn good things, they are 
still ignorant. You know our practice. If a white 
man in traveling through our country enters one 
of our cabins, we all treat him as I do you: we dry 
him if he is wet; we warm him if he is cold and give 
him meat and drink that he may allay his thirst and 
hunger; and we spread soft furs for him to rest and 
sleep on. We demand nothing in return. But if 
I go into a white man’s house at Albany and ask 
for victuals and drink, they say: 'Where is your 
money?’ and if I have none they say: 'Get out, you 
Indian dog!’ You see they have not learned those 
little good things that we need no meetings to be 
instructed in, because our mothers taught them to 
us when we were children; and therefore it is impos¬ 
sible their meetings should be, as they say, for any 
such purpose or have any such effect: they are 
only to contrive the cheating of Indians in the price 
of beaver.” 

—From "An Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin A 

Memorize and deliver the Indian’s speech to Conrad Weiser 
just as you think the Indian would have delivered it himself. 

Tell the story of the gift of maize and kidney beans. There 
is another Indian legend about the origin of maize. Read the 
chapter on Hiawatha’s Fasting in Longfellow’s Hiawatha and 
tell the story to the class. 


PAUL REVERE’S RIDE 


167 


PAUL REVERE’S RIDE 

This poem tells the story of the first battle of the Revolu¬ 
tionary War. There had been much ill feeling between the 
British soldiers and the people of Boston. The men in the 
neighborhood of Boston organized themselves into military 
companies to be prepared to fight if necessary. They called 
themselves “minute-men”; that is, they would be ready to 
fight with a minute’s notice. The British had heard that the 
Americans had stored some arms and ammunition a short 
distance from Boston. They planned to send a company of 
soldiers at night, surprise the “minute-men” and seize this 
ammunition. The Americans heard of this expedition and 
spread the alarm among the “minute-men” when the British 
started out from Boston. This is one of the most famous poems 
in American literature and is well worth memorizing. See 
page 75 for the shortest method of memorizing. 

Listen, my children, and you shall hear 
Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, 

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; 

Hardly a man is now alive 

Who remembers that famous day and year. 

He said to his friend, “If the British march 
By land or sea from the town to-night, 

Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch 
Of the North Church tower as a signal light,— 

One, if by land, and two, if by sea; 

And I on the opposite shore will be, 

Ready to ride and spread the alarm 
Through every Middlesex village and farm, 

For the country folk to be up and to arm.” 

Then he said, “Good-night!” and with muffled oar 
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, 

Just as the moon rose over the bay, 

Where swinging wide at her moorings lay 


i68 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


The Somerset, British man-of-war; 

A phantom ship, with each mast and spar 
Across the moon like a prison bar, 

And a huge black hulk, that was magnified 
By its own reflection in the tide. 

Meanwhile, his friend, through alley and street, 
Wanders and watches with eager ears, 

Till in the silence around him he hears 
The muster of men at the barrack door, 

The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, 

And the measured tread of the grenadiers, 

Marching down to their boats on the shore. 

Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, 
By the wooden stairs with stealthy tread, 

To the belfry-chamber overhead, 

And startled the pigeons from their perch 
On the sombre rafters, that round him made 
Masses and moving shapes of shade,— 

By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, 

To the highest window in the wall, 

Where he paused to listen and look down 
A moment on the roofs of the town, 

And the moonlight flowing over all. 

Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead. 

In their night-encampment on the hill, 

Wrapped in silence so deep and still 
That lie could hear, like a sentinel's tread, 

The watchful night-wind as it went 
Creeping along from tent to tent, 

And seeming to whisper, “All is well!” 

A moment only he feels the spell 

Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread 


PAUL REVERE’S RIDE 


169 


Of the lonely belfry and the dead; 

For suddenly all his thoughts are bent 
On a shadowy something far away, 

Where the river widens to meet the bay,— 

A line of black that bends and floats 
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. 

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, 

Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride 
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. 

Now he patted his horse's side, 

Now gazed at the landscape far and near, 

Then impetuous, stamped the earth, 

And turned and tightened his saddle-girth; 

But mostly he watched with eager search 
The belfry tower of the Old North Church, 

As it rose above the graves on the hill, 

Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. 

And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height 
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! 

He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, 

But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight 
A second lamp in the belfry burns! 

A hurry of hoofs in the village street, 

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, 

And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark 
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; 

That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the 
light. 

The fate of a nation was riding that night; 

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, 
Kindled the land into flame with its heat. 

He has left the village and mounted the steep, 

And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, 


170 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; 

And under the alders that skirt its edge, 

Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, 

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. 

It was twelve by the village clock, 

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. 
He heard the crowing of the cock, 

And the barking of the farmer's dog, 

And felt the damp of the river fog, 

That rises after the sun goes down. 

It was one by the village clock, 

When he galloped into Lexington. 

He saw the gilded weathercock 
Swim in the moonlight as he passed, 

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, 
Gaze at him with spectral glare, 

As if they already stood aghast 

At the bloody work they would look upon. 

It was two by the village clock, 

When he came to the bridge in Concord town. 

He heard the bleating of the flock, 

And the twitter of birds among the trees, 

And felt the breath of the morning breeze 
Blowing over the meadows brown. 

And one was*safe and asleep in his bed 
Who at the bridge would be first to fall, 

Who that day would be lying dead, 

Pierced by a British musket ball. 

You know the rest. In the books you have read, 
How the British Regulars fired and fled,— 

How the farmers gave them ball for ball, 


PAUL REVERE’S RIDE 


I 7 I 




















































































































17 2 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


From behind each fence and farm-yard wall, 
Chasing the red-coats down the lane, 

Then crossing the fields to emerge again 
Under the trees at the turn of the road, 

And only pausing to fire and load. 

So through the night rode Paul Revere; 

And so through the night went his cry of alarm 
To every Middlesex village and farm,— 

A cry of defiance and not of fear, 

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, 
And a word that shall echo forevermore! 

For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, 
Through all our history, to the last, 

In the hour of darkness and peril and need, 

The people will waken and listen to hear 
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, 

And the midnight message of Paul Revere. 

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. 


A WELL EDUCATED GENTLEMAN 
DEFINED 

I tell you earnestly, you must get into the habit 
of looking intensely at words, assuring yourself of 
their meaning, syllable by syllable, nay, letter by 
letter. A well educated gentleman may not know 
many languages, may not be able to speak any but 
his own, may have read very few books; but whatever 
language he knows, he knows precisely; whatever 
word he pronounces, he pronounces rightly. Above 
all he is versed in the peerage of words. 

—John Ruskin. 


INTERESTING WORDS 


J 73 


INTERESTING WORDS 

Words are as interesting as people and the study 
of their family trees and history is fascinating. As 
in the case of poeple so with words, there are family 
groups and family names, the root of the word (or 
the basic meaning) corresponding to our surnames 
and the prefixes (or syllables placed before the root) 
corresponding to our first or Christian names. 
Let us look at some of these group names or roots. 

One of the largest families in word history is the 
“mit” or “mis” family of Latin origin, this surname 
meaning “to send or give out.” We have many 
interesting words in which this family name appears; 
for instance, “transmit” (trans = across -|-mit = send) 
to send across, as; “to transmit a message”; “emit” 
(e=out+mit) to send out; as, “to emit a cry”; 
“permit” (per = through +mit) to send through or 
to allow; as, “permit him entrance”; “admit” 
(ad=to+mit) to send to a place; as, “his ticket 
admits him to the balcony”; “remit” (re = back-f 
mit) to send back; as, “remit five dollars for the bill.” 

Another interesting family is the “graph” or 
“write” family of Greek origin. To this group 
belongs the word “graphite,” a kind of carbon used 
in lead pencils for writing. “Graphophone” means 
an instrument recording written sound from the 
roots “graph” = write and “phon” = sound; “biogra¬ 
phy” means a written life history from “bio” = life 
and “graph” = write; “autobiography” means a life 
history written by one's self from “auto” =self, 
“bio” =life, and “graph” =write; “autograph” means 
one's name written by one's self; “geography” means 
a written description of the earth from “geo”= earth 
and “graph,” and “paragraph” means written at the 


*74 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


side from “para” = aside and “graph.” This word 
has changed somewhat in its application for a para¬ 
graph used to be a little sign (f[) put out at the side 
of the written matter to indicate a change of thought, 
but afterwards printers indented the first word of the 
writing where the thought changed and all of the 
related ideas taken together formed a paragraph, so 
that the sign was not necessary any longer. 

There are many words that, like persons, have gone 
up in the social scale while others have gone down. 
For instance, the word “mob” was first considered 
as slang and far below the dignity of pure stock words. 
It comes from the Latin root mobilis meaning “mov¬ 
able or unsettled,” and was at first a word of low type, 
signifying an object of terror. Now, however, though 
we still associate these ideas with a mob, the word is 
no more considered slang and has been elevated to a 
place in the dictionaries among the polite society of 
words. 

The word “villain,” on the other hand, has gone 
down the social ladder. In medieval days, when the 
feudal system was in force and the peasant folk 
lived in small hut-like homes called villas, one who 
lived in such a villa was called a “villain” and a group 
of villas was called a “village.” If you will remember 
that formerly a villain was simply one who lived in a 
villa, you will never have any difficulty in spelling this 
troublesome word. After a time these villains who 
were entirely respectable people, though poor, became 
so poverty stricken, through the oppression of the 
nobles, that they could not earn a living and many 
of them started to steal for a livelihood. In this way 
the reputation of the villains became bad and soon 
all of the villa dwellers were looked down upon as 
thieves and rascals, just as a villain is considered 
today. 


INTERESTING WORDS 


*75 


Another interesting word from early days is the 
word “curfew/’ Curfew comes from two old English 
words meaning “cover fire.” In olden times, before 
people had any street lighting systems or fire depart¬ 
ments and the huts and houses had thatched roofs of 
straw and floors and beds were covered with straw, 
fires were common and so the officials ordered people 
to cover their fires at sunset to prevent fires’ breaking 
out in the night, and a bell was rung at that time as a 
signal. Since there was nothing for the people to do 
after sunset, their homes being dark, they soon took 
the ringing of the curfew bell as a signal to clear the 
streets and now in some cities a bell is sounded at 
about nine o’clock to warn young people that they 
must be in their homes and off the streets. 

Some of our verbs come from the names of people. 
Such a word is “macadamize,” which means to make 
a pavement of macadam or crushed stone because the 
first one to devise such a pavement was a man 
named Macadam. “Tantalize” is of this class also. 
This word means to tease or to torment by having 
the object desired just out of one’s reach. This comes 
from an old myth about a king of Phrygia called 
Tantalus who was so cruel as not only to starve his 
subjects but even to cook and serve them as food to 
the immortal gods. For this he was punished by 
being sent to Hades where he was forced to stand up 
to his chin in a stream of pure water, tormented with 
thirst, for whenever he stooped to drink the water 
receded, while over his head hung luscious fruit 
which, whenever he tried to reach it, swung upward 
on the branch and eluded his grasp. 

There are many other words whose histories are 
just as interesting as those mentioned in this selec¬ 
tion. A knowledge of words and their histories not 


176 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


only increases our vocabularies but also our enjoy¬ 
ment of reading. 


Word Study Project 


Consult your dictionaries to find the meaning and interest¬ 
ing history of the following words: 


Mackintosh 

circumnavigate 

transfer 

damask 

indent 


martial 

bisect 

perspire 

dialogue 

prologue 


benediction 

October 

legal 

expel 

projection 


SOME HUMORS OF THE ENGLISH 
LANGUAGE 

“WE’ll begin with a box, and the plural is boxes. 
But the plural of ox should be oxen, not oxes. 

Then one fowl is goose, but two are called geese. 
Yet the plural of mouse should never be meese. 
You may find a lone mouse, or a whole nest of mice, 
But the plural of house is houses, not hice; 

If the plural of man is always called men, 

Why shouldn’t the plural of pan be called pen? 
If I speak of a foot and you show me your feet 
And I give you a boot, would a pair be called beet? 
If one is a tooth, and a whole set are teeth, 

Why shouldn’t the plural of booth be called beeth? 
If the singular’s this and the plural is these 
Should the plural of kiss be nicknamed keese? 

Then one may be that and three would be those. 
Yet hat in the plural would never be hose, 

And the plural of cat is cats, not cose. 

The masculine pronouns are he, his, and him 
But imagine the feminine, she, shis, and shim. 
So the English, I think you all will agree 
Is the most wonderful language you ever did see.” 


HOW TO USE REFERENCES 


177 


HOW TO USE REFERENCES 

If we are to be educated, it is not necessary to 
carry an encyclopedia of facts in our heads, but it is 
necessary to know how and where to find out about 
various matters. Many times we wish to find infor¬ 
mation in a book with which we are not familiar. 
Then we may save time by looking in the index of the 
book in which we think that the information will be 
found, under the general heading that covers the 
subject sought. Indexes are arranged alphabetically, 
usually in the back of the text books, and so we may 
locate topics quickly with a little practice. The 
following suggestions are given to train you how to 
use dictionaries and text books to find items of infor¬ 
mation. 

1 . What is the correct pronunciation of “Himalaya ” ? 
You will know that the dictionary or geography is 
the proper reference book for this information. In 
the back of each you will find a pronouncing gazetteer 
with the word divided into syllables and the vowels 
marked. Of course you will look for the word Himal¬ 
aya. If you are not familiar with the diacritical 
markings, you may look at the bottom of the page 
or at the explanatory table of vowel markings pre¬ 
ceding the gazetteer. Wait for your teacher to give 
the signal to begin and then see who can first find 
and give the correct pronunciation. 

2. Close your books and again wait for the signal 
to find the correct pronunciation of Chihuahua . 
Locate this city . Raise your hand when you have the 
desired information. 

3. Take out your English grammar texts and, when 
the signal is given, see who can be the first to locate 
and copy neatly definitions for the following: a 


178 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


phrase; a proper noun; a declarative sentence; a predi¬ 
cate. 

4. Take your geographies. * At a signal, open 
your books and find the answer to this question: 
Where are the important salmon fisheries cf the world ? 
Raise your hand when you have the facts. 

5. Use your geographies or an atlas to find the 
answer to this question when told to start: What is 
the population , according to the last census , of the fol¬ 
lowing cities and how should they be arranged if we are 
to put them in order of their size , starting with the 
largest ? Chicago, Paris, London, Philadelphia, 
New York. The first pupil to get these facts may tell 
the class the method by which he or she was able to 
locate them so quickly. 

6. In what book would you look to find the rule for 
determining the area of a rectangle; the number of 
square rods in an acre\ How many square rods are 
there in an acre? 

7. In what book would you find the answers to 
the following questions? What is the scientific name 
for the shoulder blade? For the knee cap? What kind 
of blood do our veins carry ? Find the answers to these 
questions. 

8. Prepare a good question calling for some fact 
found in your text books. Submit this to the class 
for a speed contest to see who can be the leader in 
locating information. Do not tell in which book the 
answer will be found. 


FIRE FIGHTING 


ij9 


GOVERNMENT BULLETINS 

Government bulletins are usually published with sub-topics 
distributed through the text. This enables one to turn through 
a bulletin until he sees the sub-topic in which he is interested. 

Find the answers to the following questions by first choosing 
the sub-topics that you think will most likely contain the 
answers, then read the portions of the bulletin which will give 
you the desired information. 

1. What is the best substance to use in extinguishing burning 

oil? 

2. What substances are used to charge a chemical fire 
extinguisher? 

3. What is the oldest and cheapest fire extinguisher? 

4. When are dry-powder extinguishers very effective? 

5. What are “hand-grenade” extinguishers? 

6. Name four methods to use in fighting forest fires. 

7. Why should water-buckets, for use in case of fires, have 
covers on them? Where should these buckets be placed? 

8. How should sawdust be treated to make it effective for 
fighting fires? 


FIRE FIGHTING 

While the easiest way to fight fire is to prevent it, 
some provision should be made for promptly extin¬ 
guishing any fire which may start in spite of pre¬ 
cautions. Nearly all farm products and equipment 
are combustible and are contained in frame buildings. 
It is almost a necessity that fire be maintained in 
some of these buildings during a part of the year and 
carried into most of the remaining ones occasionally. 
In a large percentage of cases some one is in the 
building when a fire starts. Thus all buildings should 
be equipped with some kind of fire-extinguishing 
apparatus, for all fires are of the same size at the 


i8o 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


start, and most of them are discovered in time to 
be put out by a single person if the means are at hand. 
The apparatus should be located in convenient places 
known to everyone who frequents the building, and 
should always be kept ready for instant use, and a 
ladder long enough to reach the roof should be kept 
in a handy place if there is no other way to get to the 
roof quickly. Fire insurance companies give special 
rates to all property owners in cities who equip their 
premises with satisfactory fire-extinguishing apparat¬ 
us, and many companies would doubtless be willing 
to make similar arrangements in the case of farm 
buildings so equipped. 


Water 

A pail of water is the oldest, simplest, and also the 
cheapest fire extinguisher. Fire buckets are found in 
all places of business and manufacturing plants, and 
there is no other reason why pails of water to be 
used for no other purpose should not be found in 
every farm building. They are so effective in extin¬ 
guishing small fires that insurance companies grant 
lower rates to many merchants and manufacturers 
who follow this practice, yet there are very few 
farm buildings where buckets of water are kept in 
fixed places to be used for fire only, although it would 
cost but little and require only a slight amount of 
work to maintain such protection. Most people rely 
on pumps to furnish water when a fire breaks out; 
but the well may be a considerable distance from the 
fire, and the delay caused by having to hunt buckets, 
pump the water, and carry it to the fire may be suffi¬ 
cient to permit the flames to spread beyond control. 
The usefulness of the fire bucket depends upon its 
being instantly available. To insure this the water 


FIRE FIGHTING 


181 


should never under any circumstances be used for 
other purposes, the buckets should be inspected and 
refilled at regular intervals, measures should be taken 
to prevent the water from freezing in cold weather, 
and the buckets should always be kept at certain fixed 
places. They should be set on shelves or hung on 
brackets, and not put on the floor where they may be 
upset or have other things piled on them. If they are 
provided with covers the water will not evaporate 
so quickly as from open buckets, nor will it get full 
of dust and dirt and develop an offensive smell. 
The water can be kept from freezing in all except very 
low temperatures by adding two pounds of common 
salt to each bucketful. In some cases calcium 
chloride may be preferable to common salt, as it 
will not cause deterioration of a metal bucket. If 
the buckets are specially painted or labeled they will 
be more conspicuous and there will be less likelihood 
of their being used by careless persons for other 
purposes than fire fighting. 

Water-supply systems which furnish water under 
pressure afford excellent fire-fighting facilities if the 
necessary hose and connections are provided and 
kept ready for use in emergency. This fact should be 
taken into account when considering the cost and 
advisability of installing such a system. 

Chemical Extinguishers have many Advantages 

The chemical extinguisher has come into general 
use in recent years, and it has many advantages 
over water buckets. Since it can be used for nothing 
else, it is always sure to be in its place and ready 
when needed. Furthermore, some types of chemical 
extinguishers are effective in subduing fires among 
oils, where water is of no value. 


I 82 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


The chemical extinguisher in most general use is 
the soda-acid variety with a capacity of about 2*4 
gallons of water. More than twenty firms manu¬ 
facture approved apparatus of this type. These 
extinguishers generally cost from $y to $12. Their 
construction is simple and they are easy to operate. 
The apparatus in most general use is about 2 feet in 
height and is intended to be hung on the wall. The 
chemical extinguishers which are approved by insur¬ 
ance companies are tested to withstand a pressure of 
350 pounds. They are designed to hold 2^ gallons 
of water mixed with 1H2 pounds of bicarbonate of 
soda, and a bottle which holds 4 ounces of acid. The 
stream which is thrown at the blaze has a range of 
from 25 to 40 feet and will flow for about one minute. 
If applied correctly the contents of a 23^ gallon 
extinguisher are equivalent to many times that 
volume of water thrown from pails. These extinguish¬ 
ers can be refilled and used many times. When not 
in use they require no attention, except that they 
should be discharged and thoroughly cleaned and 
refilled once a year, and must be protected from 
freezing. Specific directions for operating and 
refilling are printed upon a plate attached to the 
tank of all approved makes. The chemicals for 
refilling can be purchased at any drug store for half 
a dollar or less, and a supply should always be kept 
on hand. These extinguishers are useful on any fire 
which water will quench, but are not very effective 
in gasoline or kerosene fires. 

Another type of chemical extinguisher consists of 
a quart of fluid in a double-action metal syringe, the 
handle of which is worked back and forth to eject the 
liquid. The chemical agent which smothers the fire 
is carbon tetrachloride. This is a liquid which does 


FIRE FIGHTING 


183 

not freeze until a temperature of 50° F. below zero is 
reached. When the temperature rises to about 
200° F., very nearly the temperature required to 
boil water, it turns into a heavy vapor, which 
covers and smothers the fire. It is especially useful 
in extinguishing fires on which water or carbonic- 
acid-gas extinguishers have little effect. Burning 
oil, gasoline, kerosene, or acetylene generally can be 
subdued with it and it is especially valuable in the 
garage. It is not poisonous and evaporates quickly 
without damaging articles on which it is thrown. 
However, a large quantity of the vapor may cause 
suffocation of persons remaining in a closed room 
with it. Caution in its use is therefore necessary. 
One-quart extinguishers of this type can be purchased 
for about $8, and liquid for refilling them costs 
about #1.50. These extinguishers are approved by all 
fire insurance companies. 

Dry-powder Extinguishers 

There are on the market many makes of ex¬ 
tinguishers consisting of sheet metal tubes filled with 
powder, which decomposes when thrown on a hot 
fire and produces a noncombustible gas which 
smothers the flames by shutting off the oxygen. The 
manufacturers recommend them for fires in confined 
spaces, and especially for chimney fires, and in many 
cases they have been effective in curbing gasoline and 
oil fires. The ingredients are coarsely powdered, 
decompose easily without explosion, and give off 
a strong odor and much smoke. They appeal to 
many on account of their low cost when compared 
with other extinguishers, but their value has been 
greatly exaggerated and most experts in fire protec¬ 
tion do not recommend them. Their use in attempts 


184 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


to extinguish fires on which they can be of little help 
is likely to cause disastrous delay in the use of water 
or other approved agents. 

“Hand Grenade” Extinguishers 

Glass bottles of spherical form containing fire¬ 
extinguishing liquids of various kinds are sold in 
many places. The bottle is to be thrown on the fire 
and broken and the liquid thus liberated. When 
heated the liquid gives off a non-combustible gas, 
and in some cases is supposed to encrust the burning 
material with a fireproof chemical and thus smother 
the fire. These grenades are not so dependable as 
other forms of extinguishers. Their capacity is small, 
it is difficult to throw one of them to the base of the 
fire, and sometimes they do not break when thrown. 
As in the case of the tubes of dry powder, they are 
likely to cause serious delay in the use of better 
extinguishing agents. 

Sand for Extinguishing Oil Fires 

Sand is a very good extinguisher of burning oil 
in case of a small fire on a floor or in a shallow con¬ 
tainer. Water is of little value in fires of this kind 
unless a large quantity of it is at hand, for if applied 
in small quantity it will generally serve only to 
scatter the burning material and make the fire more 
difficult to control. Sand is not very efficient if the 
fire is in a tank or bucket, since the sand sinks to the 
bottom of the vessel and allows the fire to keep on 
burning. Pails of sand are recommended in many 
ordinances applying to garages, and, when all things 
are considered, are probably superior to anything 
except good chemical extinguishers. Sand is very 
heavy, and the bucket containing it should be small 


FIRE FIGHTING 


185 


or else only partly filled, so that it will not be too 
heavy to carry. A light, long-handled scoop or dipper 
might be useful for applying the sand to the fire. 

Sawdust for Extinguishing Oil Fires 

Sawdust is recognized as a fairly efficient ex¬ 
tinguisher of oil fires, especially if the oil is in a deep 
container. Sawdust, poured on burning oil, floats 
and smothers the fire by shutting off the oxygen. 
Sawdust itself is somewhat inflammable, and if it is 
used care must be taken that it does not become oil- 
soaked and as hazardous as the oil itself. If two or 
three pounds of common soda is mixed with a bucket¬ 
ful of sawdust, it is almost entirely incombustible; 
and if the fire on which it is thrown is very hot the 
soda will give off a gas which aids in smothering the 
flames. 

Fighting Woods Fires 

By the use of proper methods fire in the woods, 
except during very dry and windy weather, can 
usually be controlled. Quick action is of the utmost 
importance. One man who is close by at the start 
can often stop a fire which after a few minutes' 
headway would require hours or days of hard fighting 
by many men. 

Effective ordinary tools for fighting light, running 
surface fires and clearing away loose-leaf litter as a 
fire guard or check line are long-handled forks, 
shovels, and garden rakes. A rake, however, clogs 
up quickly. A much better tool is the long-handled, 
wire bristle stable brush. Axes should be included in 
every fire-fighting equipment. Mattocks prove very 
useful in checking fire in deep forest humus, where it 
is necessary to dig through to the mineral soil. 
Various improvised substitute tools are widely 


186 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


made use of, often with success, in stopping fires. 
In the hardwood forests a stout forked stick is very 
commonly used to scrape away loose-leaf litter in 
front of an approaching fire. 

Whipping is a common method of fighting lines of 
fire. This is particularly true in pine or other conifer¬ 
ous woods, where a small sapling or branch is an 
effective implement. A wet burlap sack does good 
work in whipping almost all kinds of grass or 
shallow ground fires. Water applied by means of a 
watering can will deaden a very hot fire so that a 
man following can readily beat out what fire remains. 
This method is especially well adapted to heavy grass 
or ground litter fires in relatively flat or smooth, 
rolling country, even where water has to be hauled 
by wagon in barrels for distances of a mile or more. 

Soil thrown over the fire with a shovel checks it 
effectually, especially in regions of loose sandy soils 
free from much surface vegetable matter. 

Night and early morning are the most favorable 
times to fight fire in the woods.- Strike the advancing 
lines of fire by taking favorable periods of low fire, 
due either to lulls in the wind or small areas of sparse 
trees and ground cover. Don’t overtax the fighting 
forces by attacking a fiercely burning fire front. If 
this sector of the fire proves too hot and aggressive, 
efforts should be concentrated along the sides lines 
and back line, heading the fire off obliquely from each 
side till the two sides come together in a point. 

Back-firing is a hazardous undertaking for anyone 
not experienced in fire fighting. Too commonly as a 
result of back-firing, two or more separate fires are 
added to the original fire, and each must be fought 
out. The aim should be to back-fire along narrow 
roadways, paths, or streams which if not used as 


FIRE FIGHTING 


187 


guards would very likely be crossed by the fire. 
Back-firing should be used only when absolutely 
necessary. One of the most common mistakes in 
fighting fires is to overestimate the rapidity of the 
fire and the difficulty of putting it out. In back-firing 
property is deliberately burned over, and one should 
bear in mind as a fixed principle to burn over as 
small an area as possible. 

As soon as the head fire is stopped, attack the 
wings at once, particularly if there is a strong wind; 
otherwise from each wing of the old fire there will 
soon form an independent fire with a central head. 

Go over the deadened fire line carefully and, by 
removing all traces of smoldering embers, make it 
safe against the outbreak of new fires. All snags 
and standing dead trees on the inside border of the 
burned area should be cut. If burned off at the base 
these might fall across the line and start a new fire, 
or if burning while still standing might scatter 
sparks beyond the line. Logs and down trees which 
may lie across the fire line should be rolled a safe 
distance back into the burned area to prevent their 
carrying fire across the line. 

—Extracts from Farmers' Bulletin 904. 

United States Department of Agriculture . 

AN ANECDOTE FOR YOU TO TELL 

“Say, pa.” 

“Well, my son.” 

“I took a walk through the cemetery today and 
read the inscriptions on ‘the tombstones.” 

“Well, what about it?” 

“Where are all the wicked people buried?” 

—The Continent 


188 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


ALL ABOARD FOR THE FOOTBALL GAME 

Football is one of the most interesting and popular of our 
great national games. All of the members of a team must 
understand certain signals in order that they may know what 
plays are to be used. Have one of the boys in your class 
explain a system of signals for football. The others in the class 
who have not played football will then appreciate the story, 
“The Air Line,” much more than they would otherwise. 

After you have read the story, tell why the title “The Air 
Line” is appropriate. 


THE AIR LINE 

Excuse me, Mother, there's Alf Davis' whistle," 
exclaimed Jim Hunt, bolting his pie. 

“Alf Davis?" questioned Jim’s older brother Tom. 
“Is that old “Hi’ Davis’ boy?” 

“Yes," Jim nodded, “and he’s a live wire, all right. 
He plays quarterback on the East End football team. 
Wish we could have had him on ours." 

Tom’s grunt did not sound enthusiastic. “He may 
be a live wire, but his older brother Hi was about as 
unhealthful an influence in my crowd of fellows as 
you’d find anywhere." 

Jim bristled at once. “I don’t know anything 
about Hi—he’s been gone from here for two years— 
but Alf’s all right. He’s as sharp as a brier, and in 
on the ground floor every time." And away went 
Jim. 

Jim’s father leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. 
“Old Hi has always managed to keep on the safe side 
of the law—but I don’t imagine he sets a very fine 
example for his boys." 

“Mrs. Davis used to seem like a nice sort of 
woman," Jim’s mother put in. “I guess they miss 


THE AIR LINE 189 

her. But I don’t want Jim running with Alf if Tom 
thinks he is an undesirable companion.” 

“Neither do I want Jim to cast him off, and perhaps 
lessen Alf’s chances for good companionship,” her 
husband said slowly. “Tom may be mistaken. I 
think boys size up one another pretty well—eh, son ? 
Jim’s keen about his new acquaintance now; let’s 
give him a little time on it.” 

Meantime the two under discussion were speeding 
down Travers Street, headed for Ray’s Sporting 
Goods Shop. 

“If you fellows take the black and tan, we’ll take 
red and white,” said Jim. “Hope old Ray has a 
full set of each.” 

“It’s shoes I’m after specially,” Alf said, casting a 
quick look at his companion. “You look at the 
stockings while I cruise round among the ‘beetle 
crushers.’ ” 

Ray’s shop was a fascinating spot, and presently 
Jim was deep in jerseys and football stockings, while 
Alf hurried back to the rear where the shoes were 
kept. “Football shoes, sir?” came the young clerk’s 
crisp query. 

“Uh-huh,” nodded Alf, “and baseball shoes, too. 
Might as well see all the sports shoes you have.” 

“Of course you wouldn’t want baseball shoes for 
football,” Mr. Deems reminded him. “There are 
spikes in them, you know, they would tear up your 
opponent.” 

Alf made no reply, but set several pairs of either 
kind on the counter for examination. “I’ll take 
these,” and he pointed to a stout pair of football 
shoes. “No, I believe I’ll get you to hunt a half size 
larger.” 


190 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


While Deems was hunting the larger shoes Alf 
made an adroit change; the forbidden spiked shoes 
he slipped into the box that had held the football 
shoes. The appearance and price were the same. 
When the transfer was made he called to Mr. Deems. 
“I think this pair will do, after all,” he told him; 
“they’re big enough.” 

Their purchases made, the boys parted company at 
the door. 

We are going to mop up with you East Enders next 
week,” Jim called after his friend. “Better do your 
best to beat Blake’s School on Saturday.” 

“We’ll eat you and Blake both up!” Alf responded, 
then gave a wicked grin at the package under his arm. 
“When I get you beauties filed down and camouflaged 
a bit, you’ll knock out some surprised youngsters on 
the West End team, or I miss my guess!” 

Jim’s team had no game on Saturday, and they 
repaired in a body to Riston Field, on the outskirts of 
the town, to see the East Enders play Blake. 

True to Alf’s prediction, his crowd had it all their 
own way with the visiting eleven. But so clever had 
been the quarterback’s manipulation of his spiked 
shoes that the punishment dealt out by his side to 
Blake’s boys remained untraced, though there was 
some grumbling about rough stuff. 

Alf, in spite of his success in athletics, was not a 
popular boy, even among his own players, and Jim 
Hunt was the sole member of the West End crowd 
that chummed with him at all. Jim was a little 
stubborn in such matters, and the more the others 
turned down Alf’s advances, the more resolutely 
Jim championed him. 

Vague rumors of sharp practice by the East End 


THE AIR LINE 


191 

quarter were continually in the air, but to Jim, Alf 
could do no wrong. He encouraged the latter to 
hang about his house more than suited Jim’s mother. 

The West Enders felt a little blue over the ease 
with which Alf’s team walked away with Blake’s 
School, and Monday afternoon saw a vigorous 
try out on their practice lot, marked by several trick 
plays new to the team—tricks evolved in Jim’s fertile 
brain. 

“That end pass will sure puzzle them,” chuckled 
Charlie Post. 

“So will the block play,” Ed Hannon added. 

“What you fellows need,” Jim insisted, “is to grind 
the new signals into your ‘noodles.’ See, I’ve got 
them all copied out on this paper; each of you can 
copy it if you like.” 

“Better not have too many copies around,” Ed 
said darkly. “’Spose you give us a drill in them right 
now, and you keep the only copy.” 

“Righto!” Jim answered importantly. “Now, 
then, 81-62-4-3 !” 

“Pass ball to left end, start fake run, pass to 
center,” translated the group, and so on, until Jim 
was satisfied. 

Dusk fell as the team left the field and the boys 
scattered to their homes, full of Saturday’s game. 
Jim and Sam Leftwidge went off down Oak street, 
and presently Jim gave a shrill whistle which caused 
a figure half a block ahead of them to turn. “That’s 
Alf Davis,” he began. 

“What makes you chum with him?” grunted Sam. 
“That fellow’s too slick for my taste.” 

“ ‘Slick’ nothing! He’s as straight as any of us,” 


192 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Jim defended huffily. “He is keener than the rest, 
and puts it over us.” 

Sam nodded glumly to the new companion and 
turned off down his street. 

“Sam seems peeved,” Alf remarked. “What’s he 
grouched about?” 

“Oh, the fellows are tired, I guess,” Jim parried. 
“I’ve been putting them through a pretty stiff signal 
practice—new signals for some stunts we’re going to 
pull off on you fellows Saturday.” 

“That so? Wish I could get a look at them,” 
laughed Alf. “Who’s the grand custodian of the 
West Enders’ secrets?” 

“I am,” and with a flourish Jim pulled off his cap 
and showed the valuable slip of paper tucked into the 
inner band. 

Alf made a playful snatch, and the two parted 
laughing. But the older boy’s face grew thoughtful 
as he left Jim’s gate. 

Next day’s recess brought the schoolboys crowding 
out on the playground; Jim and his mates engaged in 
impromptu scrimmages and races all over the generous 
open space, but Alf was not of the number. He had 
made pne of his few failures in algebra recitation that 
morning, and had been kept in to do his work over. 

As he sat in the empty classroom, where the 
windows were open for ventilation, the shouts of the 
others spurred his wits, and he mastered the difficulty 
shortly. Laying the corrected paper on Mr. Waring’s 
desk, he stepped to the window overlooking the play¬ 
ground in time to hear Jim’s voice immediately 
below him- 

“Watch us put the E-N-D in East End Saturday! 
Whoop!” He tossed his cap high in air, just as Owen 



THE AIR LINE 


T 93 


Hardy shouted, “Race anybody to the fence and 
back!” 

And the cap? Jim stood a second, then looked up, 
expecting his headpiece to hit him in the eye. There 
was no sign of it! The other boys had gone by this 
time, and Jim searched the ground for his cap, then 
tore off after the others. “Hey, there! Who caught 
my cap?” 

Even after further investigation, the cap was not 
found, and Jim, hot and excited challenged everyone 
to aid in finding a cap which had been tossed into the 
air and failed to come down. 

Alf Davis, practicing a wrestling fall in one corner 
of the grounds, joined the search. Jim began to 
enjoy his position as the center of a genuine mystery. 

Mrs. Hunt took a different view. She was ag¬ 
grieved at his losing a new cap, and declined to 
replace it at once, making him wear an old cap of 
Tom's the rest of the week. 

All such minor matters were forgotten, however, 
when Saturday brought the rival teams together on 
Riston Field, and to Jim's relief, his well-drilled fol¬ 
lowers were letter perfect in their signal work. 

It was an evenly matched contest, although 
the West Enders complained that their injuries 
were unusually painful—deep scratches and ugly 
bruises shortly appearing. 

“Somebody in that bunch is mighty savage,” 
growled Charlie Post, while the captain stuck a 
bit of adhesive on his arm. 

“There isn't but one boy mean enough"—began 
Roy Martin. 

“Oh, dry up!” Jim broke in. “Play the game and 


194 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


don’t grouch. We’ve held them to no score so far; 
let’s try that trick play now.” 

In they went. The signal was given, and the ball 
passed as arranged. But what was this? An East 
Ender shot into position just in time to frustrate 
the play, and no advantage to Jim’s team resulted. 

Again one of the new plays was tried, only to fail, 
by reason of Alf Davis himself, who foiled the 
attempt at an end run made as neatly as if he had 
known the meaning of “9-11-86”! 

“They’re on to our signals!” panted Ed Hannon, 
when time was called for somebody to get his wind 
again. “I say, Jim, is there any way by which Alf 
Davis could have had a look at our plans?” 

Jim flushed angrily under the grime which covered 
his face. “You ought to know the answer to that, 
Ed,” he snapped. “You know I kept those signals 
in my cap, as close to me as the paper on the wall. 
How could he have seen them, I’d like to know?” 

“Your cap!” Jack Willis cried, “why, you lost 
that!” Jim’s jaw dropped open. 

“So I did, but if you can tell me where, you’re 
pretty smart. And as for Alf, he was on the play¬ 
ground and helped us hunt.” 

“He wasn’t on the playground during the whole 
recess period,” Owen Hardy asserted, “he flunked in 
old Waring’s class, and was kept in that day.” 

“There’s the whistle; get into line,” Jim said 
hurriedly, an incredible suspicion assailing him. 
He remembered so well just the spot under the Alge¬ 
bra classroom window where he had tossed his cap 
into the air. If Alf were up there— 

“Try the first trick play, boys,” he mumbled, 
“when I give you the second-play signals 81-62-4-3.” 


THE AIR LINE 


J 95 


Away went the ball in the opposite direction from 
that first tried. There was obvious bewilderment 
among the East End players, followed by a desperate 
rally—too late. Charlie Post tore down the field, 
and two minutes more saw a touchdown for West 
End. 

Victory tasted only half sweet to Jim when, a 
few minutes later, the successful team marched 
around the field to the shouts of their supporters > 
while the losers stood in a rather disconsolate group 
round their coach. The moment the jubilation was 
over, Jim shook off his mates and darted after the 
departing East Enders. 

“Alf!” he called, “Alf Davis!” 

Alf looked anything but willing to be interrupted* 
but Jim was upon him before he could frame an 
excuse, and the two dropped behind the others. 

“How did you get hold of our signals ?” demanded 
Jim briefly. “I know you must have seen them, and 
Td like to hear what you have to say for yourself.” 

Alf turned a sullen eye on his friend. Things were 
going badly with him to-day, and now he bid fair to 
lose the friendship of this one boy whose loyalty he 
had never valued before as he did at this moment. 

“What are you talking about?” he fenced, “signals? 
Didn't you tell me you carried them in your cap all 
the time?” 

Jim gave a short, scornful laugh. “And Eve about 
concluded that my cap landed in your hands when 
I threw it up in the air the other day and lost it.” 

Alps nerves, already on edge from fear that his 
illegal shoe trick had been discovered by the referee, 
and that trouble was in store for him on that score, 
tried to cover his confusion by a strained laugh. But 


196 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


the laugh stuck, somehow, and with mouth open he 
faced Jim’s accusing look. 

“I won’t say that I didn’t get a line on your play,” 
he said haltingly. The two were all but alone in the 
darkening street. Jim whirled round on his compan¬ 
ion. 

“Yes, and it was an air line. My cap must have 
fallen into Waring’s window when you were doing 
your algebra. The boys have all been telling me, Alf, 
that you weren’t straight, but I wouldn’t believe it. 
I never dreamed you would do me a trick like that 
—and I won’t believe it now if you’ve got anything 
to say for yourself.” 

The other boy ground his heel into the gravel 
sidewalk. “Well, I did catch the blooming cap!” 
he blurted out, “I’d just stepped to the window that 
second and heard you blowing down below about 
what you were going to do to us, and up sailed the 
thing right into my hands, signals and all. Much 
good it did us! I suppose you’ll tell them all, and 
I’ll be outlawed just as my brother Hi was.” 

Jim shot him a curious look. He had caught a 
totally new note of shame and despair in Alf’s rather 
hard voice. 

“Tell?” he said slowly. “Well, I don’t know 
about that. It was a scurvy trick; it didn’t get 
you anything, though. You didn’t lose much as far 
as the other boys are concerned, because they always 
knew you were crooked. But I—I have always stuck 
up for you and believed in you. No, I guess I won’t 
say anything about it, but”— 

Alf shot out an impetuous hand as the other turned 
away. “Jim,” he said hoarsely, “If you’ll still stand 
by me, I’ll cut out the sneak business from now on. 


ANECDOTES 


197 


I can make those fellows change their minds about 
me, if I choose.” 

Jim’s face cleared, and two grimy hands met. 
‘Til stick by you, Alf,” he said, “and if I see you 
getting in bad, I’ll send you a few more signals by air 
line!” 

—Janet Allan Bryan. 

Courtesy Presbyterian Board of Publication, 

YES OR NO 

Write your name on line one and your grade on line two. 
Below are groups of words. You are to rearrange the words to 
make good sentences then answer each by Yes or No. They 
are true or false statements. 

1. Fish in water live. 

2. Horses legs four have. 

3. Water runs stream up. 

4. Madison capitol is the of Wisconsin. 

5. Good health sleep is necessary to. 

6. Success to necessary is health. 

7. Arithmetic than history is easier. 

8. Roosevelt a foreigner was. 

9. We eat must live to. 

10. Honesty rewarded always is. 


198 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE 

In one of the battles in the Crimean War with Russia, the 
English commander made an error in ordering a certain English 
regiment of six hundred men, known as the Light Brigade, to 
charge the Russian army in a position that meant defeat and 
almost certain death. Even though they knew that an error 
had been made, the men obeyed the command and made the 
charge, very few of them returning alive. This poem is a 
fine example of men obeying their superiors and doing their 
duty. 

A league is an old English unit of measure. It is equal to 
3 miles. It is seldom used now but it is well to know its meaning 
because we frequently find it used in old stories and poems. 

This poem is one of the best known poems in English 
literature. Memorize it by the method described on page 75. 

Half a league, half a league, 

Half a league onward, 

All in the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 

“Forward the Light Brigade! 

Charge for the guns!” he said: 

Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 

“Forward, the Light Brigade!” 

Was there a man dismayed? 

Not tho > the soldiers knew 
Some one had blunder'd: 

Theirs not to make reply, 

Theirs not to reason why, 

Theirs but to do and die: 

Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 


THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE 


Cannon to right of them, 

Cannon to left of them, 

Cannon in front of them 
Volleyed and thunder’d; 

Storm’d at with shot and shell 
Boldly they rode and well, 

Into the jaws of Death, 

Into the mouth of Hell 
Rode the six hundred. 

Flashed all their sabres bare, 
Flashed as they turned in air 
Sab’ring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 
All the world wondered: 

Plunged in the battery smoke, 
Right through the line they broke; 
Cossack and Russian 
Reeled from the sabre-stroke 
Shattered and sundered. 

Then they rode back, but not— 
Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 

Cannon to left of them, 

Cannon behind them 
Volleyed and thundered; 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 

They that had fought so well, 
Came thro’ the jaws of Death, 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 

All that was left of them, 

Left of six hundred. 


200 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


When can their glory fade ? 

Oh, the wild charge they made! 

All the world wondered. 

Honor the charge they made! 

Honor the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred! 

—Alfred Lord Tennyson. 


THINGS TO FORGET 

“If you see a tall fellow ahead of a crowd, 

A leader of men, marching fearless and proud, 

And you know of a tale whose mere telling aloud, 
Would cause his proud head to in anguish be bowed. 
It’s a pretty good plan to forget it. 

If you know of a skeleton hidden away 
In a closet, and guarded and kept from the day 
In the dark; and whose showing, whose sudden dis- 
play, 

Would cause grief and sorrow and life-long dismay, 
It’s a pretty good plan to forget it. 

If you know of a thing that will darken the joy 
Of a man or a woman, a girl or a boy, 

That will wipe out a smile, or the least way annoy 
A fellow, or cause any gladness to cloy, 

It’s a pretty good plan to forget it.” 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 


201 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 

The island of Cuba belonged to Spain for four hundred 
years. The Spanish rulers were very cruel to the people of 
Cuba and the Cubans made several attempts to gain their 
independence. The people of our country sympathized with 
the Cubans and secretly sent them money and ammunition. 
General Garcia was one of the leaders of the Cuban armies 
which had been forced to retreat to the mountain regions of 
Cuba. 

When the United States battleship Maine was blown up in 
Havana harbor, our people became very angry, and Congress 
declared war on Spain. President McKinley wished to send 
a message to General Garcia to tell him of the assistance which 
we were planning to give to the Cuban armies. How this 
message was delivered is told in the following selection. 

In all this Cuban business there is one man stands 
out on the horizon of my memory like Mars at perihe¬ 
lion. 

When war broke out between Spain and the United 
States, it was very necessary to communicate quickly 
with the leader of the Insurgents. Garcia was some¬ 
where in the mountain fastnesses of Cuba—no one 
knew where. No mail or telegraph message could 
reach him. The President must secure his co¬ 
operation, and quickly. What to do? 

Some one said to the President, “There is a fellow 
by the name of Rowan will find Garcia for you, if 
anybody can.” 

Rowan was sent for and given a letter to be de¬ 
livered to Garcia. How the “fellow by the name of 
Rowan” took the letter, sealed it up in an oilskin 
pouch, strapped it over his heart, in four days landed 
by night off the coast of Cuba from an open boat, 
disappeared into the jungle, and in three weeks 
came out on the other side of the Island, having 


202 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


traversed a hostile country on foot, and delivered his 
letter to Garcia—are things I have no special desire 
now to tell in detail. The point that I wish to make 
is this: McKinley gave Rowan a letter to be delivered 
to Garcia; Rowan took the letter and did not ask, 
“Where is he at?” 

By the Eternal! there is a man whose form should 
be cast in deathless bronze and the statue placed in 
every college of the land. It is not book-learning 
young men need, nor instruction about this and 
that, but a stiffening of the vertebrae which will 
cause them to be loyal to a trust, to act promptly, 
concentrate their energies: do the thing —“Carry 
a message to Garcia.” 

General Garcia is dead now, but there are other 
Garcias. No man who has endeavored to carry 
out an enterprise where many hands were needed, 
but has been well-nigh appalled at times by the 
imbecility of the average man—the inability or 
unwillingness to concentrate on a thing and do it. 

Slipshod assistance, foolish inattention, dowdy 
indifference, and half-hearted work seem the rule; 
and no man succeeds, unless by hook or crook or 
threat; he forces or bribes other men to assist him; or 
mayhap, God in His goodness performs a miracle, 
and sends him an Angel of Light for an assistant. 

You, reader, put this matter to a test: You are 
sitting now in your office—six clerks are within 
call. Summon any one and make this request: 
“Please look in the encyclopedia and make a mem¬ 
orandum for me concerning the life of Correggio.” 

Will the clerk quietly say, “Yes, sir,” and go do the 
task? On your life he will not. He will look at you 
out of a fishy eye and ask one or more of the following 
questions: 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 


203 


Who was he? 

Which encyclopedia? 

Where is the encyclopedia? 

Was I hired for that? 

Don't you mean Bismarck? 

What's the matter with Charlie doing it? 

Is he dead? 

Is there any hurry? 

Sha'n’t I bring you the book and let you look it 
up yourself? 

What do you want to know for? 

And I will lay you ten to one that after you have 
answered the questions, and explained how to find 
the information, and why you want it, the clerk will 
go off and get one of the other clerks to help him 
try to find Garcia—and then come back and tell 
you there is no such man. Of course I may lose 
my bet, but according to the Law of Average I will 
not. Now, if you are wise, you will not bother to 
explain to your “assistant" that Correggio is indexed 
under the C's, not in the K's, but you will smile 
very sweetly and say, “Never mind," and go look 
it up yourself. And this incapacity for independent 
action, this moral stupidity, this infirmity of the will, 
this unwillingness to cheerfully catch hold and lift— 
these are the things that put pure Socialism so far 
into the future. If men will not act for themselves, 
what will they do when the benefit of their effort is 
for all ? 

A first mate with knotted club seems necessary; 
and the dread of getting the “bounce" Saturday 
night holds many a worker to his place. Advertise 
for a stenographer, and nine out of ten who apply can 


204 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


neither spell nor punctuate—and do not think it 
necessary to. Can such a one write a letter to 
Garcia? 

“You see that bookkeeper/' said the foreman to 
me in a large factory. 

“Yes; what about him?" 

“Well, he's a fine accountant, but if I'd send him 
up town on an errand, he might accomplish the 
errand all right, and on the other hand, he might 
stop at four saloons on the way, and when he got to 
Main Street would forget what he had been sent for." 

Can such a man be entrusted to carry a message 
to Garcia? 

We have recently been hearing much maudlin 
sympathy expressed for the “downtrodden denizens 
of the sweatshop" and the “homeless wanderer 
searching for honest employment," and with it all 
often go many hard words for the men in power. 

Nothing is said about the employer who grows old 
before his time in a vain attempt to get frowsy 
ne'er-do-wells to do intelligent work; and his long, 
patient striving after “help" that does nothing but 
loaf when his back is turned. In every store and 
factory there is a constant weeding out process going 
on. The employer is constantly sending away 
“help" that have shown their incapacity to further 
the interests of the business, and others are being 
taken on. No matter how good times are, this sorting 
continues: only, if times are hard and work is scarce, 
the sorting is done finer—but out and forever out 
the incompetent and unworthy go. It is the survival 
of the fittest. Self-interest prompts every employer 
to keep the best—those who can carry a message 
to Garcia. 


A MESSAGE TO GARCIA 


205 


I know one man of really brilliant parts who has 
not the ability to manage a business of his own, and 
yet who is absolutely worthless to any one else, 
because he carries with him constantly the insane 
suspicion that his employer is oppressing, or intend¬ 
ing to oppress, him. He can not give orders, and he 
will not receive them. Should a message be given 
him to take to Garcia, his answer would probably 
be, “Take it yourself!” 

Tonight this man walks the streets looking for 
work, the wind whistling through his threadbare 
coat. No one who knows him dare employ him, for 
he is a regular firebrand of discontent. He is im¬ 
pervious to reason, and the only thing that can im¬ 
press him is the toe of a thick-soled Number Nine 
boot. 

Of course I know that one so morally deformed is 
no less to be pitied than a physical cripple; but in 
our pitying let us drop a tear, too, for the men who 
are striving to carry on a great enterprise, whose 
working hours are not limited by the whistle, and 
whose hair is fast turning white through the struggle 
to hold in line dowdy indifference, slipshod im¬ 
becility, and the heartless ingratitude which, but 
for their enterprise, would be both hungry and home¬ 
less. 

Have I put the matter too strongly? Possibly I 
have; but when all the world has gone a-slumming 
I wish to speak a word of sympathy for the man who 
succeeds—the man who, against great odds, has 
directed the efforts of others, and having succeeded, 
finds there’s nothing in it: nothing but bare board 
and clothes. I have carried a dinner-pail and 
worked for day’s wages, and I have also been an 
employer of labor, and I know that there is something 


206 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


to be said on both sides. There is no excellence, per 
se> in poverty; rags are no recommendation; and all 
employers are not rapacious and high-handed, any 
more than all poor men are virtuous. My heart 
goes out to the man who does his work when the 
“boss” is away, as well as when he is at home. 
And the man who, when given a letter for Garcia, 
quietly takes the missive, without asking any 
idiotic questions, and with no lurking intention of 
chucking it into the nearest sewer, or of doing aught 
else but deliver it, never gets “laid off,” nor has to go 
on a strike for higher wages. Civilization is one 
long, anxious search for just such individuals. 
Anything such a man asks shall be granted. He is 
wanted in every city, town and village—in every 
office, shop, store and factory. The world cries out 
for such; he is needed and needed badly— the man 
who can “Carry a Message to Garcia.” 

—Elbert Hubbard. 


OUR WORK 

No man was born into the world whose work 
Is not born with him. There is always work 
And tools to work withal, for those who will* 

And blessed are the horny hands of toil! 

The busy world shoves angrily aside 
The man who stands with arms akimbo set, 

Until occasion tells him what to do; 

And he who waits to have his task marked out 
Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled. 

—James Russell Lowell. 


INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP 


207 


INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP 

In the preceding story of “The Message To Garcia” we 
learned about a man who did his duty of carrying a message 
against all odds and became a hero as a result. Here we have 
the story, in poetry, of an unnamed boy who too made himself 
a hero by delivering his message even though it cost him his 
life. 

When Napoleon, the great French general, was trying to 
conquer the world in the early nineteenth century, it was a 
part of his plan to capture Ratisbon, a city in Austria. He had 
ordered his men to take the city and when they had done so to 
send him word. He did not take part in this battle himself, 
but stood “a mile or so away on a little mount” in his usual 
position of legs apart, hands behind him, and his head thrust 
forward as if in watchful thought, ready to hear the battle 
returns. The message of victory was brought him by a boy who 
was badly wounded, but who, through forcing every ounce of 
endurance in him, succeeded in delivering the message that was 
so welcome to Napoleon and then fell over dead. He too 
“carried a message to Garcia.” 

You know, we French stormed Ratisbon: 

A mile or so away, 

On a little mound, Napoleon 
Stood on our storming-day; 

With neck out-thrust, you fancy now, 

Legs wide, arms locked behind, 

As if to balance the prone brow 
Oppressive with its mind. 

Just as perhaps he mused, “My plans 
That soar, to earth may fall, 

Let once my army-leader, Lannes, 

Waver at yonder wall,”— 

Out ’twixt the battery-smokes there flew 
A rider, bound on bound 


20 8 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Full-galloping; nor bridle drew 
Until he reached the mound. 

Then off there flung in smiling joy, 

And held himself erect 
By just his horse's mane, a boy: 

You hardly could suspect— 

(So tight he kept his lips compressed, 

Scarce any blood came through) 

You looked twice ere you saw his breast 
Was all but shot in two. 

“Well,” cried he, “Emperor, by God's grace. 

We've got you Ratisbon! 

The marshal's in the market-place, 

And you'll be there anon 
To see your flag-bird flap his vans 
Where I, to heart's desire, 

Perched him!” The chief's eye flashed; his plans 
Soared up again like fire. 

The chief's eye flashed; but presently 
Softened itself, as sheathes 
A film the mother eagle’s eye 

When her bruised eaglet breathes: 

“You’re wounded!” “Nay,” the soldier's pride 
Touched to the quick, he said: 

°T'm killed, sire!” And his chief beside, 

Smiling, the boy fell dead. 

—Robert Browning 

While this poem is a fine tribute to a boy who was faithful 
to his duty, it also shows the terrible side of war—the sacrifice 
of a boy who would have been faithful to his employer in the 
more profirable pursuits of peace. War takes for its toll a large 
portion of the finest young men in the nation. 


THE PINE TREE SHILLINGS 


209 


SPEED TEST V 

Read the following story as rapidly as you can. The teacher 
will indicate in minutes and quarter-minutes the time that it 
takes you to read the whole selection. Divide the total number 
of words in the selection, 1181, by the number of minutes that 
it took you to read the whole story. This will give you your 
speed in words per minute. Compare your speed with the 
standards given in the introduction in the front of the book. 
Be ready to tell the story either orally or in writing, as the 
teacher directs. This will test whether you can get the thought 
out of the selection. 

A shilling is an English coin about the size and value of our 

quarter. 


THE PINE TREE SHILLINGS 

Captain John Hull was the mint-master of 
Massachusetts, and coined all the money that was 
made there. This was a new line of business; for, 
in the earlier days of the colony, the money consisted 
only of the gold and silver coin of England and Spain. 

For instance, if a man wanted to buy a coat, he 
perhaps exchanged a bearskin for it. If he wished 
for a barrel of molasses, he might purchase it with 
a pile of pine boards. The Indians had a sort of 
money, called wampum, which was made of clam 
shells, and this strange sort of specie was taken in 
payment of debts by the English settlers. Bank bills 
had never been heard of. There was not money 
enough of any kind, in many parts of the country, 
to pay the salaries of the ministers; so that they 
sometimes had to take quintals of fish, bushels of 
corn, or cords of wood, instead of silver and gold. 

As the people grew more numerous, and their 
trade with one another increased, the want of money 


210 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


was still greater. To supply the demand, the 
general court passed a law for establishing a coinage 
of shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Captain 
John Hull was chosen to manufacture this money, 
and was to have one shilling out of every twenty to 
pay him for the trouble of making them. 

Hereupon all the silver in the colony was handed 
over to Captain John Hull. The battered silver 
cans, I suppose, and silver buckles, and broken 
spoons, and silver buttons from worn-out coats, and 
silver hilts of swords that had figured at court, all 
such curious old articles were doubtless thrown into 
the melting pot together. But by far the greater 
part of the silver consisted of bullion from the mines 
of South America, which the English buccaneers— 
who were little better than pirates—had taken from 
the Spaniards, and brought to Massachusetts. 

All this old and new silver being melted down and 
coined, the result was an immense amount of splendid 
shillings, sixpences, and threepences. Each had the 
date 1652 on the one side, and the figure of a pine 
tree on the other. Hence they were called pine-tree 
shillings. And for every twenty shillings that he 
coined, you will remember, Captain John Hull was 
entitled to put one shilling into his own pocket. 

The magistrates soon began to suspect that the 
mint-master would have the best of the bargain. 
They offered him a large sum of money if he would 
but give up that twentieth shilling, but he declared 
himself perfectly satisfied. And well he might be; for 
so diligently did he labor, that, in a few years, his 
pockets, his money bags, and his strong box were 
overflowing with pine-tree shillings. This was 
probably the case when he came into possession of 
Grandfather's Chair; and as he had worked so hard 


THE PINE TREE SHILLINGS 


211 


at the mint, it was certainly proper that he should 
have a comfortable chair to rest himself in. 

When the mint-master had grown very rich, a 
young man, Samuel Sewell by name, came a-courting 
his only daughter. 

His daughter—whose name I do not know, but 
we will call her Betsy—was a fine, hearty damsel, 
by no means so slender as some young ladies of our 
own day. On the contrary, having always fed heart¬ 
ily on pumpkin pies, doughnuts, Indian puddings, 
and other Puritan dainties, she was as round and 
plump as a pudding herself. With this round, rosy 
Miss Betsy, did Samuel Sewell fall in love. As he 
was a young man of good character, industrious 
habits, and a member of the church, the mint-master 
very readily gave his consent. 

“Yes, you may take her,” said he in his rough way, 
“and you'll find her a heavy burden enough.” 

On the wedding day, we may suppose that honest 
John Hull dressed himself in a plum-colored coat, 
all the buttons of which were made of pine-tree 
shillings. The buttons of his waistcoat were six¬ 
pences; and the knees of his smallclothes were 
buttoned with silver threepences. Thus attired, he 
sat with great dignity in Grandfather's Chair, and 
being a portly old gentleman, he completely filled it 
from elbow to elbow. 

On the opposite side of the room, between her 
bridesmaids, sat Miss Betsey. She was blushing with 
all her might, and looked like a full-blown peony, or a 
great red apple. 

There, too, was the bridegroom, dressed in a fine 
purple coat and gold lace waistcoat, with as much 
other finery as the Puritan laws and customs would 


212 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


allow him to put on. His hair was cropped close to 
his head, because Governor Endicott had forbidden 
any man to wear it below the ears. But he was a 
very personable young man; and so thought the 
bridesmaids and Miss Betsy herself. 

The mint-master, also, was pleased with his new 
son-in-law, especially as he had courted Miss Betsy 
out of pure love, and had said nothing at all about 
her portion. So, when the marriage ceremony was 
over, Captain Hull whispered a word to two of his 
men-servants, who immediately went out, and soon 
returned, lugging in a large pair of scales. They were 
such a pair as merchants use for weighing bulky 
commodities and quite a bulky commodity was now 
to be weighed in them. 

“Daughter Betsy,” said the mint-master, “get 
into one side of these scales.” 

Miss Betsy—or Mrs. Sewell, as we must now call 
her—did as she was bid, like a dutiful child, without 
any question of the why or wherefore. But what her 
father could mean unless to make her husband pay 
for her by the pound (in which case she would have 
been a dear bargain), she had not the least idea. 

“And now,” said honest John Hull to his servants, 
“bring that box hither.” 

The box to which the mint-master pointed was a 
huge, square, ironbound, oaken chest; it was big 
enough, my children, for four of you to play at 
hide and seek in. The servants tugged with might 
and main, but could not lift this enormous receptacle, 
and were finally obliged to drag it across the floor. 

Captain Hull then took a key from his girdle, 
unlocked the chest, and lifted its ponderous lid. 
Behold! it was full to the brim of bright pine-tree 


THE PINE TREE SHILLINGS 


21 3 


shillings, fresh from the mint; and Samuel Sewell 
began to think that his father-in-law had got pos¬ 
session of all the money in the Massachusetts treasury. 

But it was only the mint-master's honest share of 
the coinage. 

Then the servants, at Captain Hull's command, 
heaped double handfuls of shillings into one side of 
the scales, while Betsy remained in the other. Jingle, 
jingle, went the shillings, as handful after handful 
was thrown in, till, plump and ponderous as she was, 
they fairly weighed the young lady from the floor. 

“There, son Sewell!" cried the honest mint-master, 
resuming his seat in Grandfather’s Chair, “take 
these shillings for my daughter's portion. Use her 
kindly, and thank Heaven for her. It is not every 
wife that's worth her weight in silver!" 

—Nathaniel Hawthorne. 

FREEDOM IS KING 

God said, I am tired of kings, 

I suffer them no more; 

Up to my ear the morning brings 
The outrage of the poor. 

Think ye I made this ball 
A field of havoc and war, 

Where tyrants great and tyrants small 
Might harry the weak and poor? 

My angel—his name is Freedom— 

Choose him to be your king; 

He shall cut pathways east and west, 

And fend you with his wing. 

—Ralph Waldo Emerson. 


214 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


READING ALOUD 

Mark Twain, whose real name was Samuel Clemens, is 
considered one of our best American writers and fun makers. 
His short stories are especially popular. Here we have a story 
told in dialect or in the crude language of a rough Westerner. 
It may take you somewhat longer than usual to read this story 
the first time, but read carefully to yourself and then try 
reading the selection aloud several times to see how well you 
can imitate this queer story teller. Readings given in dialect 
are well liked and the better you can interpret selections like 
this, the more pleasure you can give others. 

THE JUMPING FROG 

There was a feller here once in Calaveras County 
by the name of Jim Smiley, in the winter of ’49—or 
maybe it was the spring of ’50 —I don't recollect 
exactly, somehow, though what makes me think it 
was one or the other is because I remember the big 
flume warn't finished when he first come to the camp; 
but any way, he was the curiousest man about 
always betting on anything that turned up you ever 
see, if he could get anybody to bet on the other side; 
and if he couldn't he'd change sides. Any way what 
suited the other man would suit him—any way just 
so's he got a bet, he was satisfied. But still he was 
lucky, uncommon lucky; he most always come out 
winner. He was always ready and laying for a 
chance; there couldn't be no solit'ry thing mentioned 
but that feller'd offer to bet on it, and take ary side 
you please, as I was just telling you. If there was a 
horse-race you'd find him flush or you’d find him 
busted at the end of it; if there was a dog-fight, he'd 
bet on it; if there was a cat-fight, he'd bet on it; 
if there was a chicken-fight, he'd bet on it; why, if 
there was two birds setting on a fence, he would bet 


THE JUMPING FROG 


2I 5 


you which one would fly first; or if there was a camp¬ 
meeting, he would be there reg'lar to bet on Parson 
Walker, which he judged to be the best exhorter 
about here, and so he was too, and a good man. If he 
even see a straddle-bug start to go anywheres, he 
would bet you how long it would take him to get 
to—to wherever he was going to, and if you took him 
up, he would foller that straddle-bug to Mexico but 
what he would find out where he was bound for and 
how long he was on the road. Lots of the boys here 
has seen that Smiley, and can tell you about him. 
Why, it never made no difference to him—he'd bet 
on anything—the dangdest feller. Parson Walker's 
wife laid very sick once, for a good while, and it 
seemed as if they warn't going to save her; but one 
morning he come in, and Smiley up and asked him 
how she was, and he said she was considable better— 
thank the Lord for his inf'nite mercy—and coming 
on so smart that with the blessing of Prov'dence she’d 
get well yet; and Smiley, before he thought, says, 
“Well, I'll resk two-and-a-half she don't anyway." 

Thish-yer Smiley had a mare—the boys called her 
the fifteen-minute nag, but that was only in fun, 
you know, because of course she was faster than that 
—and he used to win money on that horse, for all 
she was so slow and always had the asthma, or the 
distemper, or the consumption, or something of that 
kind. They used to give her two or three hundred 
yards start, and then pass her under way; but always 
at the fag end of the race she'd get excited and des¬ 
perate like, and come cavorting and straddling up, 
and scattering her legs around limber, sometimes in 
the air, and sometimes out to one side among the 
fences, and kicking up m-o-r-e dust and raising 
m _o-r-e racket with her coughing and sneezing and 


216 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


blowing her nose—and always fetch up at the stand 
just about a neck ahead, as near as you could cipher 
it down. 

And he had a little small bull-pup, that to look at 
him you'd thing he warn’t worth a cent but to set 
around and look ornery and lay for a chance to steal 
something. But as soon as money was up on him 
he was a different dog; his under-jaw'd begin to 
stick out like the fo'castle of a steamboat, and his 
teeth would uncover and shine like the furnaces. 
And a dog might tackle him and bully-rag him, and 
bite him, and throw him over his shoulder two or 
three times, and Andrew Jackson—which was the 
name of the pup—Andrew Jackson would never let 
on but what he was satisfied, and hadn't expected 
nothing else—and the bets being doubled and doubled 
on the other side all the time, till the money was all 
up; and then all of a sudden he would grab that other 
dog jest by the j’int of his hind leg and freeze to it— 
not chaw, you understand, but only just grip and 
hang on till they throwed up the sponge, if it was a 
a year. Smiley always come out winner on that pup, 
till he harnessed a dog once that didn't have no hind 
legs, because they'd been sawed off in a circular 
saw, and when the thing had gone far enough, and 
the money was all up, and he come to make a snatch 
for his pet holt, he see in a minute how he'd been 
imposed on, and how the other dog had him in the 
door, so to speak, and he 'peared surprised, and then 
he looked sorter discouraged-like, and didn’t try no 
more to win the fight, and so he got shucked out bad. 

He give Smiley a look as much as to say his 
heart was broke, and it was his fault, for putting 
up a dog that hadn’t no hind legs for him to take 
holt of, which was his main dependence in a fight, 


THE JUMPING FROG 


217 


and then he limped off a piece and laid down and 
died. It was a good pup, was that Andrew Jackson, 
and would have made a name for hisself if he’d 
lived, for the stuff was in him and he had genius— 
I know it, because he hadn’t no opportunities to 
speak of, and it don’t stand to reason that a dog 
could make such a fight as he could under the cir¬ 
cumstances if he hadn’t no talent. It always makes 
me feel sorry when I think of that last fight of his’n, 
and the way it turned out. 

Well, thish-yer Smiley had rat-terriers, and chicken 
cocks, and tomcats and all them kind of things, till 
you couldn’t rest, and you couldn’t fetch nothing for 
him to bet on but he’d match you. He ketched a 
frog one day, and took him home, and said he cal’lat- 
ed to educate him; and so he never done nothing for 
three months but set in his back yard and learn that 
frog to jump. And you bet you he did learn him, too. 
He’d give him a little punch behind, and the next 
minute you’d see that frog whirling in the air like a 
doughnut—see him turn one summerset, or may be 
a couple, if he got a good start, and come down flat- 
footed and all right, like a cat. He got him up so 
in the matter of ketching flies, and kep’ him in prac¬ 
tice so constant, that he’d nail a fly every time as 
fur as he could see him. Smiley said all a frog wanted 
was education, and could do ’most anything—and 
I believe him. Why, I’ve seen him set Dan’l Webster 
down here on this floor—Dan’l Webster was the 
name of the frog—and sing out, “Flies, Dan’l, flies!” 
and quicker’n you could wink he’d spring straight up 
and make a fly off’n the counter there, and flop down 
on the floor ag’in as solid as a gob of mud, and fall 
to scratching the side of his head with his hind foot 
as indifferent as if he hadn’t no idea he’d been doin’ 


218 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


any more’n any frog might do. You never see a frog 
so modest and straightfor’ard as he was, for all he was 
so gifted. And when it come to fair and square jump¬ 
ing on a dead level, he could get over more ground 
at one straddle than any animal of his breed you 
ever see. Jumping on a dead level was his strong 
suit, you understand; and when it came to that, 
Smiley would ante up money on him as long as he had 
a red. Smiley was monstrous proud of his frog, and 
well he might be, for fellers that had traveled and 
been everywheres all said he laid over any frog that 
ever they see. 

Well, Smiley kep’ the beast in a little lattice box, 
and he used to fetch him down town sometimes and 
lay for a bet. One day a feller—a stranger in the 
the camp, he was—come acrost him with his box, and 
says: “What might it be that you’ve got in the box?” 

And Smiley says, sorter indifferent-like, “It might 
be a parrot, or it might be a canary, maybe, but it 
ain’t—it’s just a frog.” 

And the feller took it, and looked at it careful, and 
turned it round this way and that, and says, “H’m— 
so ’tis. Well, what’s he good for?” 

“Well,” Smiley says, easy and careless, “he’s good 
enough for one thing, I should judge—he can outjump 
any frog in Calaveras county.” 

The feller took the box again, and took another 
long, particular look, and give it back to Smiley, and 
says, very deliberate, “Well,” he says, “I don’t see 
no p’ints about that frog that’s any better’n any other 
frog.” 

“Maybe you don’t,” Smiley says. “Maybe you 
don’t understand ’em, maybe you’ve had experience, 
and maybe you ain’t only a amature, as it were. 


THE JUMPING FROG 


219 


Anyways, IVe got my opinion, and Til resk forty 
dollars that he can outjump any frog in Calaveras 
county.” 

And the feller studied a minute, and then says, 
kinder sad like, “Well, I’m only a stranger here 
but if I had a frog, I’d bet you.” 

And then Smiley says, "That's all right—that’s 
all right—if you’ll hold my box a minute, I’ll go and 
get you a frog.” And so the feller took the box, and 
put up his forty dollars along with Smiley’s and set 
down to wait. 

So he set there a good while thinking and thinking 
to hisself, and then he got the frog out and pried 
his mouth open and took a teaspoon and filled 
him full of quail shot—filled him pretty near up to 
his chin—and set him on the floor. Smiley he went 
to the swamp and slopped around in the mud for 
a long time, and finally he ketched a frog, and fetched 
him in, and give him to this feller, and says: 

"Now, if you’re ready, set him alongside of Dan’l, 
with his forepaws just even with Dan’l’s, and I’ll 
give the word.” Then he says, "One—two—three— 
git!” and him and the feller touched up the frogs 
from behind, and the new frog hopped off lively, 
but Dan’l give a heave, and hysted his shoulders— 
so—like a Frenchman, but it warn’t no use—he 
couldn’t budge; he was planted as solid as a church, 
and he couldn’t no more stir than if he was anchored 
out. Smiley was a good deal surprised, and he was 
disgusted too, but he didn’t have no idea what the 
matter was, of course. 

The feller took the money and started away; and 
when he was going out at the door, he sorter jerked 
his thumb over his shoulder—so—at Dan’l, and says 


220 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


again, very deliberate, “Well,” he says, “/ don’t see 
no p’ints about that frog that’s any better than any 
other frog.” 

Smiley he stood scratching his head and looking 
down at Dan’l a long time, and at last he says, “I 
do wonder what in the nation that frog throw’d off 
for—I wonder if there ain’t something the matter 
with him—he ’pears to look mighty baggy, some¬ 
how.” And he ketched Dan’l by the nap of the 
neck, and hefted him, and says, “Why blame my cats 
if he don’t weigh five pound!” and turned him upside 
down and he belched out a double handful of shot. 
And then he see how it was, and he was the maddest 
man—he set the frog down and took out after that 
feller but he never ketched him. And—” 

(Here Simon Wheeler heard his name called from 
the front yard and got up to see what was wanted.) 
And turning to me as he moved away, he said: “Just 
set where you are, stranger, and rest easy—I ain’t 
going to be gone a second.” 

But, by your leave, I did not think that a con¬ 
tinuation of the history of the enterprising vagabond 
Jim Smiley would be likely to afford me much 
information concerning the Rev. Leonidas W. Smiley, 
and so I started away. 

At the door I met the sociable Wheeler returning, 
and he button-holed me and recommenced: 

“Well this-yer Smiley had a yaller one-eyed cow 
that didn’t have no tail, only just a short stump like 
a bannanner, and—” 

However, lacking both time and inclination, I 
did not wait to hear about the afflicted cow, but 
took my leave. 

Courtesy of the Mark Twain Estate , 
and Harper and Brothers . 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 


221 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 

O. Henry, one of the best short story writers, here gives 
us a typical American story. 

Do you know what a chaparral is? If you do not, look up 
this Western expression in a dictionary and after you have 
completed the reading, decide why O. Henry called his story 
by this name. 

What does he mean when he talks about Grimm? 

To what did Lena attribute her good fortune? 

Nine o'clock at last, and the drudging toil of the 
day was ended. Lena climbed to her room in the 
third half-story of the Quarrymen's Hotel. Since 
daylight she had slaved, doing the work of a full- 
grown woman, scrubbing the floors, washing the 
heavy ironstone plates and cups, making the beds, 
and supplying the insatiate demands for wood and 
water in that turbulent and depressing hostelry. 

The din of the day's quarrying was over—the 
blasting and drilling, the creaking of the great cranes, 
the shouts of the foremen, the backing and shifting 
of the flat-cars hauling the heavy blocks of lime¬ 
stone. Down in the hotel office three or four of the 
laborers were growling and swearing over a belated 
game of checkers. Heavy odors of stewed meat, hot 
grease, and cheap coffee hung like a depressing fog 
about the house. 

Lena lit the stump of a candle and sat limply upon 
her wooden chair. She was eleven years old, thin and 
ill-nourished. Her back and limbs were sore and ach¬ 
ing. But the ache in her heart made the biggest 
trouble. The last straw had been added to the 
burden upon her small shoulders. They had taken 
away Grimm. Always at night, however tired she 
might be, she had turned to Grimm for comfort and 


222 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


hope. Each time had Grimm whispered to her that 
the prince or the fairy would come and deliver her 
out of the wicked enchantment. Every night she 
had taken fresh courage and strength from Grimm. 

In whatever tale she read she found an analogy to 
her own condition. The woodcutter's lost child, the 
unhappy goose girl, the persecuted stepdaughter, 
the little maiden imprisoned in the witch's hut— 
all these were but transparent disguises for Lena, the 
overworked kitchenmaid in the Quarrymen's Hotel. 
And always when the extremity was direst came the 
good fairy or the gallant prince to the rescue. 

So, here in the ogre’s castle, enslaved by a wicked 
spell, Lena had leaned upon Grimm and waited, 
longing for the powers of goodness to prevail. But on 
the day before Mrs. Maloney had found the book 
in her room and had carried it away, declaring sharply 
that it would not do for servants to read at night; 
they lost sleep and did not work briskly the next day. 
Can one only eleven years old, living away from one's 
mother, and never having any time to play, live 
entirely deprived of Grimm? Just try it once and 
you will see what a difficult thing it is. 

Lena's home was in Texas, away up among the 
little mountains on the Pedernales River, in a little 
town called Fredericksburg. They are all German 
people who live in Fredericksburg. Of evenings they 
sit at little tables along the sidewalk and drink beer 
and play pinochle and scat. They are very thrifty 
people. 

Thriftiest among them was Peter Hildesmuller, 
Lena’s father. And that is why Lena was sent to 
work in the hotel at the quarries, thirty miles away. 
She earned three dollars every week there, and Peter 
added her wages to his well-guarded store. Peter had 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 


223 


an ambition to become as rich as his neighbour, 
Hugo Hiffelbauer, who smoked a meerschaum pipe 
thre£ feet long and had wiener schnitzel and hassen- 
pfeffer for dinner every day in the week. And now 
Lena was quite old enough to work and assist in the 
accumulation of riches. But conjecture, if you can, 
what it means to be sentenced at eleven years of age 
from a home in the pleasant little Rhine village to 
hard labour in the ogre's castle, where you must fly 
to serve the ogres, while they devour cattle and sheep, 
growling fiercely as they stamp white limestone dust 
from their great shoes for you to sweep and scour 
with your aching fingers. And then—to have Grimm 
taken away from you! 

Lena raised the lid of an old empty case that had 
once contained canned corn and got out a sheet of 
paper and a piece of pencil. She was going to write a 
letter to her mother. Tommy Ryan was going to 
post it for her at Ballinger’s. Tommy was seventeen, 
worked in the quarries, went home to Ballinger’s 
every night, and was now waiting in the shadows 
under Lena’s window for her to throw the letter out 
to him. That was the only way she could send a 
letter to Fredericksburg. Mrs. Maloney did not 
like for her to write letters. 

The stump of candle was burning low, so Lena 
hastily bit the wood from around the lead of her 
pencil and began. This is the letter she wrote: 

Dearest Mother: I want so much to see you. And Gretel 
and Claus and Heinrich and little Adolf. I am so tired. I want 
to see you. To-day I was slapped by Mrs. Maloney and had 
no supper. I could not bring in enough wood, for my hand 
hurt. She took my book yesterday. I mean “Grimm’s Fairy 
Tales,” which Uncle Leo gave me. It did not hurt any one for 
me to read the book. I try to work as well as I can, but there is 


224 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


so much to do. I read only a little bit every night. Dear mother, 
I shall tell you what I am going to do. Unless you send for me 
to-morrow to bring me home I shall go to a deep place I know in 
the river and drown. It is wicked to drown, I suppose, but 
I wanted to see you and there is no one else. I am very tired, 
and Tommy is waiting for the letter. You will excuse me, 
mother, if I do it. 

Your respectful and loving daughter, 

Lena. 

Tommy was still waiting faithfully when the letter 
was concluded, and when Lena dropped it out she 
saw him pick it up and start up the steep hillside. 
Without undressing she blew out the candle and 
curled herself upon the mattress on the floor. 

At 10:30 o'clock old man Ballinger came out of his 
house in his stocking feet and leaned over the gate, 
smoking his pipe. He looked down the big road, 
white in the moonshine, and rubbed one ankle with 
the toe of his other foot. It was time for the Frede¬ 
ricksburg mail to come pattering up the road. 

Old man Ballinger had waited only a few minutes 
when he heard the lively hoofbeats of Fritz's team 
of little black mules, and very soon afterward his 
covered spring wagon stood in front of the gate. 
Fritz's big spectacles flashed in the moonlight 
and his tremendous voice shouted a greeting to the 
postmaster of Ballinger's. The mail-carrier jumped 
out and took the bridles from the mules, for he 
always fed them oats at Ballinger's. 

While the mules were eating from their feed bags 
old man Ballinger brought out the mail sack and 
threw it into the wagon. 

Fritz Bergmann was a man of three sentiments— 
or to be more accurate—four, the pair of mules 
deserving to be reckoned individually. Those mules 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 


225 


were the chief interest and joy of his existence. 
Next came the Emperor of Germany and Lena 
Hildesmuller. 

“Tell me,” said Fritz, when he was ready to start, 
“contains the sack a letter to Frau Hildesmuller 
from the little Lena at the quarries? One came in 
the last mail to say that she is a little sick, already. 
Her mother is very anxious to hear again.” 

“Yes,” said old man Ballinger, “thar's a letter for 
Mrs. Helterskelter, or some sich name. Her little 
gal workin' over thar, you say?” 

“In the hotel,” shouted Fritz, as he gathered up 
the lines; “eleven years old and not bigger as a 
frankfurter. The closefist of a Peter Hildesmuller! 
—some day shall I with a big club pound that man's 
dummkopf—all in and out the town. Perhaps in this 
letter Lena will say she is yet feeling better. So, 
her mother will be glad. Auf wiedersehen , Herr 

Ballinger—your feets will take cold out in the night 
• >> 
air. 

“So long, Fritzy,” said old man Ballinger. “You 
got a nice cool night for your drive.” 

Up the road went the little black mules at their 
steady trot, while Fritz thundered at them occasional 
words of endearment and cheer. 

These fancies occupied the mind of the mail- 
carrier until he reached the big post oak forest, eight 
miles from Ballinger's. Here his ruminations were 
scattered by the sudden flash and report of pis¬ 
tols and a whooping as if from a whole tribe of 
Indians. A band of galloping centaurs closed in 
around the mail wagon. One of them leaned over 
the front wheel, covered the driver with his revolver, 
and ordered him to stop. Others caught at the bridles 
of Donder and Blitzen. 


226 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“Donnerwetter!” shouted Fritz, with all his 
tremendous voice— “wass ist? Release your hands 
from dose mules. Ve vas der United States mail!” 

“Hurry up, Dutch!” drawled a melancholy voice. 
“Don't you know when you're in a stick-up? Reverse 
your mules and climb out of the cart.” 

It is due to the breadth of Hondo Bill's demerit 
and the largeness of his achievements to state that 
the holding up of the Fredricksburg mail was not 
perpetrated by way of an exploit. As the lion while 
in the pursuit of prey commensurate to his prowess 
might set a frivolous foot upon a casual rabbit in his 
path, so Hondo Bill and his gang had swooped 
sportively upon the pacific transport of Meinherr 
Fritz. 

The real work of their sinister night ride was over. 
Fritz and his mail bag and his mules came as a gentle 
relaxation, grateful after the arduous duties of their 
profession. Twenty miles to the southeast stood a 
train with a killed engine, hysterical passengers and a 
looted express and mail car. That represented the 
serious occupation of Hondo Bill and his gang. With 
a fairly rich prize of currency and silver the robbers 
were making a wide detour to the west through the 
less populous country, intending to seek safety in 
Mexico by means of some fordable spot on the Rio 
Grande. The booty from the train had melted the 
desperate bushrangers to jovial and happy sky- 
larkers. 

Trembling with outraged dignity and no little 
personal apprehension, Fritz climbed out to the road 
after replacing his suddenly removed spectacles. 
The band had dismounted and were singing, capering, 
and whooping, thus expressing their satisfied delight 
in the life of a jolly outlaw. Rattlesnake Rogers, 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 


227 


who stood at the heads of the mules, jerked a little 
too vigorously at the rein of the tender-mouthed 
Donder, who reared and emitted a loud, protesting 
snort of pain. Instantly Fritz, with a scream of- 
anger, flew at the bulky Rogers and began to assidu¬ 
ously pommel that surprised freebooter with his fists. 

“Villain!" shouted Fritz, “dog, bigstiff! Dot mule 
he has a soreness by his mouth. I vill knock off your 
shoulders mit your head—robbermans!" 

“Yi-yi!" howled Rattlesnake, roaring with laughter 
and ducking his head, “somebody git this sourkrout 
off'n me!” 

One of the gang yanked Fritz back by the coat-tail, 
and the woods rang with Rattlesnake's vociferous 
comments. 

“The don-goned little wienerwurst," he yelled, 
amiably. “He's not so much of a skunk, for a Dutch¬ 
man. Took up for his animile plum quick, didn’t 
he? I like to see a man like his hoss, even if it is a 
mule. The dad-blamed little Limburger he went for 
me, didn't he? Whoa, now, muley—I ain't a-goin' 
to hurt your mouth agin any more." 

Perhaps the mail would not have been tampered 
with had not Ben Moody, the lieutenant, possessed 
certain wisdom that seemed to promise more spoils. 

“Say, Cap," he said, addressing Hondo Bill, 
“there's liable to be good pickings in these mail sacks. 
I've done some hoss tradin' with these Dutchmen 
around Fredericksburg, and I know the style of the 
varmints. There's big money goes through the mails 
to that town. Them Dutch risk a thousand dollars 
sent wrapped in a piece of paper before they'd pay 
the banks to handle the money." 

Hondo Bill, six feet two, gentle of voice and impul- 


228 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


sive in action, was dragging the sacks from the rear 
of the wagon before Moody had finished his speech. 
A knife shone in his hand, and they heard the 
ripping sound as it bit through the tough canvas. 
The outlaws crowded around and began tearing open 
letters and packages, enlivening their labours by 
swearing affably at the writers, who seemed to have 
conspired to confute the prediction of Ben Moody. 
Not a dollar was found in the Fredericksburg mail. 

“You ought to be ashamed of yourself,” said 
Hondo Bill to the mail-carrier in solemn tones, 
“to be packing around such a lot of old, trashy paper 
as this. What d'you mean by it, anyhow? Where do 
you Dutchers keep your money at?” 

The Ballinger mail sack opened like a cocoon under 
Hondo's knife. It contained but a handful of mail. 
Fritz had been fuming with terror and excitement 
until this sack was reached. He now remembered 
Lena's letter. He addressed the leader of the band, 
asking that that particular missive be spared 

“Much obliged, Dutch,” he said to the disturbed 
carrier. “I guess that's the letter we want. Got 
spondulicks in it, ain't it? Here he is. Make a light, 
boys.” 

Hondo found and tore open the letter to Mrs. 
Hildesmuller. The others stood about gazing at 
the twisted-up letters. Hondo gazed with mute dis¬ 
approval at the single sheet of paper covered with 
the angular German script. 

“Whatever is this you’ve humbugged us with, 
Dutchy? You call this here a valuable letter? 
That's a mighty low-down trick to play on your 
friends what come along to help you distribute your 
mail,” 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 


229 


“That’s Chiny writm’,” said Sandy Grundy, 
peering over Hondo’s shoulder. 

“You’re off your kazip,” declared another of the 
gang, an effective youth, covered with silk handker¬ 
chiefs and nickel plating. “That’s shorthand. I 
seen ’em do it once in court.” 

“Ach, no, no, no—dot is German,” said Fritz. 
“It is no more as a little girl writing a letter to her 
mama. One poor little girl, sick and vorking hard 
avay from home. Ach! it is a shame. Good Mr. 
Robberman, you vill please let me have dot letter?” 

“What tha devil do you take us for, old Pretzels?” 
said Hondo with sudden and surprising severity. 
“You ain’t presumin’ to insinuate that we gents ain’t 
possessed of sufficient politeness for to take an 
interest in the miss’s health, are you? Now, you go 
on, and you read that scratchin’ out loud and in 
plain United States language to this here company of 
educated society.” 

Hondo twirled his six-shooter by its trigger guard 
and stood towering above the little German, who at 
once began to read the letter, translating the simple 
words into English. The gang of rovers stood in 
absolute silence, listening intently. 

“How old is that kid?” asked Hondo when the let¬ 
ter was done. 

“Eleven,” said Fritz. 

“And where is she at?” 

“At dose rock quarries—working. Ach, mien 
Gott—little Lena, she speak of drowning. I do not 
know if she vill do it, but if she shall I schwear I vill 
dot Peter Hildesmuller shoot mit a gun.” 

“You Butchers,” said Hondo Bill, his voice swell¬ 
ing with fine contempt, “make me plenty tired. 


230 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Hirin’ out your kids to work when they ought to 
be playin’ dolls in the sand. You’re a nice sect 
of people. I reckon we’ll fix your clock for a while 
just to show what we think of your old cheesy nation. 
Here, boys!” 

Hondo Bill parleyed aside briefly with his band, 
and then they seized Fritz and conveyed him off the 
road to one side. Here they bound him fast to a tree 
with a couple of lariats. His team they tied to 
another tree near by. 

“We ain’t going to hurt you bad,” said Hondo 
reassuringly. “’Twon’t hurt you to be tied up for a 
while. We will now pass you the time of day, as it 
up to us to depart. Augespielt—nixcumrous, Dut- 
chy. Don’t get any more impatience.” 

Fritz heard a great squeaking of saddles as the 
men mounted their horses. Then a loud yell and a 
great clatter of hoofs as they galloped pell-mell 
back along the Fredericksburg road. 

For more than two hours Fritz sat against his tree, 
tightly but not painfully bound. Then from the 
reaction after his exciting adventure he sank into 
slumber. How long he slept he knew not, but he 
was at last awakened by a rough shake. Hands were 
untying his ropes. He was lifted to his feet, dazed, 
confused in mind, and weary of body. Rubbing his 
eyes, he looked and saw that he was again in the 
midst of the same band of terrible bandits. They 
shoved him up to the seat of his wagon and placed 
the lines in his hands. 

“Hit it out for home, Dutch,” said Hondo Bill’s 
voice commandingly. “You’ve given us lots of 
trouble and we’re pleased to see the back of your 
neck. Spiel! Zwei bier! Vamoose!” 


A CHAPARRAL PRINCE 


231 


Hondo reached out and gave Blitzen a smart cut 
with his quirt. 

The little mules sprang ahead, glad to be moving 
again. Fritz urged them along, himself dizzy and 
muddled over his fearful adventure. 

According to schedule time, he should have reached 
Fredericksburg at daylight. As it was, he drove 
down the long street of the town at eleven o'clock 
a.m. He had to pass Peter Hildesmuller's house 
on his way to the post-office. He stopped his team at 
the gate and called. But Frau Hildesmuller was 
watching for him. Out rushed the whole family of 
Hildesmullers. 

Frau Hildesmuller, fat and flushed, inquired if he 
had a letter from Lena, and then Fritz raised his 
voice and told the tale of his adventure. He told the 
contents of the letter that the robber had made 
him read, and then Frau Hildesmuller broke into 
wild weeping. Her little Lena drown herself! Why 
had they sent her from home? What could be done? 
Perhaps it would be too late by the time they could 
send for her now. Peter Hildesmuller dropped his 
meerschaum on the walk and it shivered into pieces. 

“Woman!" he roared at his wife, “why did you let 
that child go away? It is your fault if she comes 
home to us no more." 

Every one knew that it was Peter Hildesmuller's 
fault, so they paid no attention to his words. 

A moment afterward a strange, faint voice was 
heard to call. “Mother!" Frau Hildesmuller at 
first thought it was Lena's spirit calling, and then 
she rushed to the rear of Fritz’s covered wagon, and, 
with a loud shriek of joy, caught up Lena herself, 
covering her pale little face with kisses and smother- 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


232 

ing her with hugs. Lena’s eyes were heavy with the 
deep slumber of exhaustion, but she smiled and lay 
close to the one she had longed to see. There among 
the mail sacks, covered in a nest of strange blankets 
and comforters, she had lain asleep until awakened 
by the voices around her. 

Fritz stared at her with eyes that bulged behind 
his spectacles. 

“Gott in Himmel!” he shouted. “How did you get 
in that wagon? Am I going crazy as well as to be 
murdered and hanged by robbers this day?” 

“You brought her to us, Fritz,” cried Frau Hildes- 
muller. “How can we ever thank you enough?” 

“Tell mother how you came in Fritz’s wagon,” said 
Frau Hildesmuller. 

“I don’t know,” said Lena. “But I know how I 
got away from the hotel. The Prince brought me.” 

“By the Emerpor’s crown!” shouted Fritz, “we 
are all going crazy.” 

“I always knew he would come,” said Lena, sitting 
down on her bundle of bedclothes on the sidewalk. 
“Last night he came with his armed knights and 
captured the ogre’s castle. They broke the dishes 
and kicked down the doors. They pitched Mr. 
Maloney into a barrel of rain water and threw flour all 
over Mrs. Maloney. The workmen in the hotel 
jumped out of the windows and ran into the woods 
when the knights began firing their guns. They 
wakened me up and I peeped down the stair. And 
then the Prince came up and wrapped me in the bed¬ 
clothes and carried me out. He was so tall and 
strong and fine. His face was as rough as a scrubbing 
brush, and he talked soft and kind and smelled of 
schnapps. He took me on his horse before him and 


WORTH WHILE SAYINGS 


2 33 


we rode away among the knights. He held me close 
and I went to sleep that way, and didn’t wake up till 
I got home.” 

“Rubbish!” cried Fritz Bergmann. “Fairy tales! 
How did you come from the quarries to my wagon ?” 

“The Prince brought me,” said Lena, confidently. 

And to this day the good people of Fredericksburg 
haven’t been able to make her give any other 
explanation. 

—O. Henry, 

Courtesy of Double day Page id Co. 


WORTH WHILE SAYINGS 


Memorize the three sayings that you think are 
best in this group of maxims. Some day they may 
help you in your work. 

I would rather be beaten in right than succeed 
in wrong. 

—Garfield. 

He that waits to do a great deal at once will never 
do any. 

—Dr. Johnson. 

Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusi¬ 
asm. 


—Emerson. 

A face that cannot smile is never good. 

—Smiles. 

Let him that would move the world, first move 
himself. 


To learn obeying is 
mg. 


—Socrates. 

the fundamental art of govern- 
—Carlyle. 


To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great 
step to knowledge. 

—Disraeli. 


234 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


GABRIEL GRUB 

What sort of jnan do you imagine Gabriel Grub to be from 
his name? After you have read a little of the story you will 
see how well this name fits. 

Were you ever alone in a grave yard at dusk or after dark? 
Surely it is not the most cheerful place in the world to be and 
the silence is pretty apt to make one do some serious thinking. 
You will be interested to see what happened in the graveyard 
to Gabriel Grub, the man who had envious malice in his heart 
on Christmas Eve. 

In an old abbey town, down in this part of the 
country, a long, long while ago—there officiated as 
sexton and grave-digger one Gabriel Grub. 

A little before twilight one Christmas eve, Gabriel 
shouldered his spade, lighted his lantern, and betook 
himself towards the old churchyard, for he had got a 
grave to finish by next morning; and feeling very low, 
he thought it might raise his spirits perhaps, if he 
went on with his work at once. As he wended his 
way up the ancient street, he saw the cheerful light 
of the blazing fires gleam through the old casements, 
and heard the loud laugh and the cheerful shouts of 
those who were assembled around them; he marked 
the bustling preparations for the next day's good 
cheer, and smelt the numerous savory odors conse¬ 
quent thereupon, as they steamed up from the 
kitchen windows in clouds. All this was gall and 
wormwood to the heart of Gabriel Grub; and as 
groups of children bounded out of the houses, tripped 
across the road, and were met, before they could 
knock at the opposite door, by half a dozen curly- 
headed little rascals, who crowded round them as 
they flocked up stairs to spend the evening in their 
Christmas games, Gabriel smiled grimly, and 


GABRIEL GRUB 


2 35 


clutched the handle of his spade with a firmer grasp, 
as he thought of measles, scarlet-fever, thrush, 
whooping-cough, and a good many other sources of 
consolation beside. 

In this happy frame of mind, Gabriel strode along, 
returning a short, sullen growl to the good-humoured 
greetings of such of his neighbors as now and then 
passed him, until he turned into the dark lane 
which led to the churchyard. Now he had been look¬ 
ing forward to reaching the dark lane, because it 
was, generally speaking, a nice gloomy, mournful 
place, and he was not a little indignant to hear a 
young urchin roaring out some jolly song about a 
merry Christmas in this very sanctuary. So Gabriel 
waited till the boy came up, and then dodged into a 
corner, and rapped him over the head with his 
lantern five or six times, just to teach him to modulate 
his voice. And as the boy hurried away with his 
hand to his head singing quite a different sort of 
tune, Gabriel Grub chuckled very heartily to himself, 
and entered the churchyard, locking the door behind 
him. 

He took off his coat, set down his lantern, and 
getting into the unfinished grave, worked at it for an 
hour or so, with right goodwill. But the earth was 
hardened with the frost, and it was no very easy 
matter to break it up, and shovel it out; and although 
there was a moon, it was a very young one, and shed 
little light upon the grave, which was in the shadow 
of the church. At any other time these obstacles 
would have made Gabriel Grub very moody and 
miserable, but he was so well pleased with having 
stopped the small boy's singing, that he took little 
heed of the scanty progress he had made, and looked 
down into the grave when he had finished work for 


236 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


the night with grim satisfaction, murmuring, as he 
gathered up his things— 

Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one, 

A few feet of cold earth when life is done. 

“Ho! ho!” laughed Gabriel Grub, as he sat himself 
down on a flat tombstone, which was a favorite 
resting place of his, and drew forth his wicker bottle; 
“a coffin at Christmas—a Christmas box. Ho! ho! 
ho!” 

“Ho! ho! ho!” repeated a voice, which sounded 
close behind him. 

Gabriel paused in some alarm, in the act of raising 
the wicker bottle to his lips, and looked round. The 
bottom of the oldest grave about him was not more 
still and quiet than the churchyard in the pale moon¬ 
light. The frost glistened on the tombstones, and 
sparkled like rows of gems along the stone carvings 
of the old church. Not the faintest rustle broke the 
profound tranquillity of the solemn scene. Sound 
itself appeared to be frozen up,—all was so cold and 
still. 

“It was the echoes,” said Gabriel Grub, raising the 
bottle to his lips again. 

“It was not” said a deep voice. 

Gabriel started up, and stood rooted to the spot, 
with astonishment and terror; for his eyes rested on 
a form which made his blood run cold. 

Seated on an upright tombstone, close to him, 
was a strange unearthly figure, whom Gabriel felt 
at once was no being of this world. His long fantastic 
legs which might have reached the ground, were 
cocked up, and crossed after a quaint fantastic 
fashion; his sinewy arms were bare, and his hands 
rested on his knees. On his short round body 


GABRIEL GRUB 


2 37 

he wore a close covering, ornamented with small 
slashes; and a short cloak dangled on his back; the 
collar was cut into curious peaks, which served the 
goblin in lieu of ruff or neckerchief; and his shoes 
curled up at the toes into long points. On his head 
he wore a broad-brimmed sugar-loaf hat, garnished 
with a single feather. The hat was covered with the 
white frost, and the goblin looked as if he had sat 
on the same tombstone very comfortably for two 
or three hundred years. He was sitting perfectly 
still; his tongue was put out, as if in derision; and 
he was grinning at Gabriel Grub with such a grin as 
only a goblin could call up. 

' “It was not the echoes,” said the goblin. 

Gabriel Grub was paralyzed, and could make no 
reply. 

“What do you do here on Christmas eve?” said 
the goblin sternly. 

“I came to dig a grave, sir,” stammered Gabriel 
Grub. 

“What man wanders among graves and church¬ 
yards, on such a night as this?” said the goblin. 

“Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!” screamed a wild 
chorus of voices that seemed to fill the churchyard. 
Gabriel looked fearfully round—nothing was to be 
seen. 

“What have you got in that bottle?” said the 
goblin. 

“Hollands, sir,” replied the sexton, trembling 
more than ever; for he had bought it of the smugglers, 
and he thought that perhaps his questioner might 
be in the excise department of the goblins. 

“Who drinks Hollands in a churchyard, on such 
a night as this?” said the goblin. 


2 j8 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!” exclaimed the 
wild voices again. 

The goblin leered maliciously at the terrified 
sexton; and then, raising his voice, exclaimed—-“And 
who, then, is our fair and lawful prize?” 

To this inquiry, the invisible chorus replied,—in 
a strain that sounded like the voices of many choris¬ 
ters singing to the mighty swell of the old church 
organ—a strain that seemed borne to the sexton's 
ears upon a gentle wind, and to die away as its soft 
breath passed onward; but the burden of the reply 
was still the same,—“Gabriel Grub! Gabriel Grub!” 

The goblin grinned a broader grin than before, 
as he said, “Well, Gabriel, what do you say to this?” 

The sexton gasped for breath. 

“It's—it's—very curious, sir, very curious, and 
very pretty; but I think I'll go back and finish my 
work, sir, if you please.'* 

“Work!” said the goblin, “what work?” 

“The grave, sir: making the grave,” stammered 
the sexton. 

“Oh, the grave, eh?” said the goblin; “Who makes 
graves at a time when all other men are merry, and 
takes a pleasure in it?” 

Again the mysterious voices replied, “Gabriel 
Grub! Gabriel Grub.!” 

“I’m afraid my friends want you, Gabriel, I’n\ 
afraid my friends want you.” 

“Under favor, sir, I don't think they can, sir; 
they don’t know me, sir; I don't think the gentlemen 
have ever seen me, sir.” 

“Oh, yes, they have. We know the man with the 
sulky face and the grim scowl that came down the 


GABRIEL GRUB 


2 3 9 


street to-night, throwing his evil looks at the children, 
and grasping his burying-spade the tighter. We 
know the man that struck the boy, in the envious 
malice of his heart, because the boy could be merry, 
and he could not. We know him—we know him.” 

“I—I—am afraid I must leave you, sir.” 

“Leave us!—Gabriel Grub going to leave us. 
Ho! ho! ho!” 

As the goblin laughed, the sexton observed for 
one instant a brilliant illumination within the 
windows of the church, as if the whole building were 
lighted up; it disappeared, the organ pealed forth 
a lively air, and whole troops of goblins, the very 
counterpart of the first one, poured into the church¬ 
yard, and began playing at leap-frog with the 
tombstones, never stopping for an instant to take 
breath, but overing the highest among them, one 
after the other, with the most marvelous dexterity. 
The first goblin was a most astonishing leaper, and 
none of the others could come near him. Even in 
the extremity of his terror, the sexton could not help 
observing, that while his friends were content to 
leap over the common-sized gravestones, the first 
one took the family-vaults, iron railings and all, 
with as much ease as if they had been so many 
street posts. 

At last, the game reached to a most exciting pitch; 
the organ played quicker and quicker, and the 
goblins leaped faster and faster, coiling themselves 
up, rolling head over heels upon the ground, and 
bounding over the tombstones like footballs. The 
sexton's brain whirled round with the rapidity of 
the motion he beheld, and his legs reeled* beneath 
him, as the spirits flew before his eyes, when the 
goblin king, suddenly darted towards him, laid his 


240 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


hand upon his collar, and sank with him through the 
earth. 

When Gabriel Grub had had time to fetch his 
breath, which the rapidity of his decent had, for the 
moment, taken away, he found himself in what 
appeared to be a large cavern, surrounded on all 
sides by crowds of goblins, ugly and grim. In the 
centre of the room, on an elevated seat, was stationed 
his friend of the churchyard; and close beside him, 
stood Gabriel Grub himself, without the power of 
motion. 

“Cold, to-night,” said the king of the goblins,— 
“very cold. A glass of something warm, here.” 

At this command, half a dozen officious goblins, 
with a perpetual smile upon their faces, whom 
Gabriel Grub imagined to be courtiers on that 
account, hastily disappeared, and presently returned 
with a goblet of liquid fire, which they presented 
to the king. 

“Ah!” said the goblin, whose cheeks and throat 
were quite transparent, as he tossed down the flame, 
“this warms one indeed; bring a bumper of the same 
for Mr. Grub.” 

It was in vain for the unfortunate sexton to protest 
that he was not in the habit of taking anything warm 
at night; for one of the goblins held him, while 
another poured the blazing liquid down his throat; 
and the whole assembly screeched with laughter, 
as he coughed and choked, and wiped away the 
tears which gushed plentifully from his eyes, after 
swallowing the burning draught. 

“And -now,” said the king, fantastically poking 
the taper corner of his sugar-loaf hat into the sexton’s 
eye, and thereby occasioning him the most exquisite 


GABRIEL GRUB 


241 


pain,—“And now, show the man of misery and 
gloom a few of the pictures from our own great 
storehouse.” 

As the goblin said this, a thick cloud, which 
obscured the further end of the cavern, rolled gradu¬ 
ally away, and disclosed, apparently at a great dis¬ 
tance, a small and scantily-furnished, but neat and 
clean apartment. A crowd of children were gathered 
round a bright fire, clinging to their mother’s gown, 
and gamboling round her chair. The mother 
occasionally rose, and drew aside the window-curtain, 
as if to look for some expected object. A frugal 
meal was ready spread upon the table, and an 
elbow-chair was placed near the fire. A knock was 
heard at the door; the mother opened it, and the 
children crowded round her, and clapped their hands 
for joy, as their father entered. He was wet and 
weary, and shook the snow from his garments, as 
the children crowded round him, and, seizing his 
cloak, hat, stick and gloves, with busy zeal, ran with 
them from the room. Then, as he sat down to his 
meal before the fire, the children climbed upon his 
knee, and the mother sat by his side, and all seemed 
happiness and comfort. 

But a change came upon the view, almost im¬ 
perceptibly. The scene was altered to a small 
bedroom, where the fairest and youngest child lay 
dying; the roses had fled from his cheek, and the 
light from his eye; and even as the sexton looked 
upon him, with an interest he had never felt or 
known before, he died. His young brothers and 
sisters crowded round his little bed, and seized his 
tiny hand, so cold and heavy; but they shrank back 
from its touch, and looked with awe on his infant 
face; for calm and tranquil as it was, and sleeping 


242 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


in rest and peace, as the beautiful child seemed to 
be, they saw that he was dead, and they knew that 
he was an angel, looking down upon them, and 
blessing them, from a bright and happy heaven. 

Again the light cloud passed across the picture, 
and again the subject changed. The father and 
mother were old and helpless now, and the number of 
those about them was diminished more than half; 
but content and cheerfulness sat on every face, and 
beamed in every eye, as they crowded round the 
fireside, and told and listened to old stories of earlier 
and bygone days. Slowly and peacefully the father 
sank into the grave, and, soon after, the sharer 
of all his cares and troubles followed him to a place 
of rest and peace. The few who yet survived them 
knelt by their tomb, and watered the green turf 
which covered it with their tears; then rose, and 
turned away, sadly and mournfully, but not with 
bitter cries, or despairing lamentations, for they 
knew that they should one day meet again; and once 
more they mixed with the busy world, and their 
content and cheerfulness were restored. The cloud 
settled upon the picture and concealed it from the 
sexton's view. 

“What do you think of that?" said the goblin, 
turning his large face toward Gabriel Grub. 

Gabriel murmured out something about its being 
very pretty, and looked somewhat ashamed, as the 
goblin bent his fiery eyes upon him. 

“You are a miserable man!" said the goblin, in a 
tone of excessive contempt. “You!" He appeared 
disposed to add more, but indignation choked his 
utterance; so he lifted up one of his very pliable 
legs, and, flourishing it above his head a little, to 
insure his aim, administered a good sound kick to 


GABRIEL GRUB 


2 43 


Gabriel Grub; immediately after which, all the 
goblins, in waiting, crowded round the wretched 
sexton, and kicked him without mercy, according 
to the established and invariable custom of courtiers 
upon earth, who kick whom royalty kicks, and hug 
whom royalty hugs. 

“Show him some more/' said the king of the goblins. 

At these words the cloud was again dispelled, and 
a rich and beautiful landscape was disclosed to 
view. The sun shone from out the clear blue sky, 
the water sparkled beneath his rays, and the trees 
looked greener, and the flowers more gay, beneath 
his cheerful influence. The water rippled on, with a 
pleasant sound, the trees rustled in the light wind 
that murmured among their leaves, the birds sang 
upon the boughs, and the lark caroled on high her 
welcome to the morning. Yes, it was morning, the 
bright, balmy morning of summer; the minutest leaf, 
the smallest blade of grass, was instinct with life. 
Man walked forth, elated with the scene; and all 
was brightness and splendor. 

“You are a miserable man!” said the king of the 
goblins, in a more contemptuous tone than before. 
And again the king of the goblins gave his leg a 
flourish; and again it descended on the shoulders of 
the sexton; and again the attendant goblins imitated 
the example of their chief. 

Many a time the cloud went and came, and many 
a lesson it taught to Gabriel Grub, who, although 
his shoulders smarted with pain from the frequent 
applications of the goblin’s feet thereunto, looked on 
with an interest which nothing could diminish. He 
saw that men who worked hard, and earned their 
scanty bread with lives of labor, were cheerful and 
happy; and that to the most ignorant, the sweet 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


244 

face of nature was a never-failing source of cheerful¬ 
ness and joy. Above all, he saw that men like 
himself, who snarled at the mirth and cheerfulness 
of others, were the foulest weeds on the fair surface 
of the earth; and, setting all the good of the world 
against the evil, he came to the conclusion that it 
was a very decent and respectable sort of a world 
after all. No sooner had he formed it, than the 
cloud which had closed over the last picture, seemed 
to settle on his senses, and lull him to repose. One 
by one the goblins faded from his sight, and as the 
last one disappeared, he sank to sleep. 

The day had broken when Gabriel Grub awoke, 
and found himself lying at full length on the flat 
gravestone in the churchyard, with the wicker bottle 
lying empty by his side, and his coat, spade, and 
lantern, well whitened by the last night's frost, 
scattered on the ground. The stone on which he had 
first seen the goblin seated, stood bolt upright before 
him, and the grave at which he had worked the 
night before, was not far off*. At first he began to 
doubt the reality of his adventures; but the acute 
pain in his shoulders, when he attempted to rise, 
assured him that the kicking of the goblins was 
certainly not a dream. He was staggered again, by 
observing no traces of footsteps in the snow on which 
the goblins had played at leap-frog with the grave¬ 
stones; but he speedily accounted for this circum¬ 
stance when he remembered that, being spirits,they 
would leave no visible impression behind them. So 
Gabriel Grub got on his feet as well as he could for 
the pain in his back; and brushing the frost off* 
his coat, put it on, and turned his face toward the 
town. 

But he was an altered man, and he could not bear 


GABRIEL GRUB 


245 


the thought of returning to a place where his repent¬ 
ance would be scoffed at, and his reformation dis¬ 
believed. He hesitated for a few moments; and 
then turned away to wander where he might, and 
seek his bread elsewhere. 

The lantern, the spade, and the wicker bottle, 
were found that day in the churchyard. There were 
a great many speculations about the sexton's fate 
at first, but it was speedily determined that he had 
been carried away by the goblins; and there were not 
wanting some very credible witnesses who had 
distinctly seen him whisked through the air on the 
back of a chestnut horse blind of one eye, with the 
hind quarters of a lion, and the tail of a bear. At 
length all this was devoutly believed; and the new 
sexton used to exhibit to the curious for a trifling 
emolument, a good-sized piece of the church weather¬ 
cock which had been accidently kicked off by the 
aforesaid horse in his aerial flight, and picked up 
by himself in the churchyard a year or two afterward. 

Unfortunately these stories were somewhat dis¬ 
turbed by the unlooked-for reappearance of Gabriel 
Grub himself, some ten years afterward, a ragged, 
contented, rheumatic old man. He told his story 
to the clergyman, and also to the mayor: and in 
course of time it began to be received as a matter 
of history, in which form it has continued down to 
this very day. The believers in the weathercock 
tale, having misplaced their confidence once, were 
not easily prevailed upon to part with it again, so 
they looked as wise as they could, shrugged their 
shoulders, touched their foreheads, and murmured 
something about Gabriel Grub's having drunk all 
the Hollands, and then fallen asleep on the flat tomb¬ 
stone; and they affected to explain what he supposed 


246 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


he had witnessed in the goblin's cavern, by saying 
he had seen the world and grown wiser. But this 
opinion, which was by no means a popular one at 
any time gradually died off; and be the matter how 
it may, as Gabriel Grub was afflicted with rheuma¬ 
tism at the end of his days, this story has at least one 
moral, if it teach no better one—and that is, that if 
a man turns sulky and drinks at Christmas time, 
he may make up his mind not to be a bit the better 
for it, let the spirits be ever so good, or let them be 
even as many degrees beyond proof, as those which 
Gabriel Grub saw in the goblin’s cavern. 

.—Charles Dickens. 

SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY 

Tell the story as interestingly as you can, making the 
mockery and mysteriousness of the goblins and the cave stand 
out. Show how and why Gabriel was punished and what lessons 
he learned. 

What does the expression “All this was gall and wormwood 
to the heart of Gabriel Grub” mean? 

You have probably read the story of Rip Van Winkle and 
if so you will be able to tell how one story reminds you of the 
other. If not, read it, for it is a capital story by Washington 
Irving. 

You will also be interested in reading another similar and 
excellent story by Dickens called “A Christmas Carol.” This 
tells about a stingy man named Scrooge who also had an exciting 
experience on Christmas Eve. 

Christmas is the only holiday of the year that 
brings the whole human family into common com¬ 
munion. The only time in the long calendar of the 
year when men and women seem, by one consent, 
to open their shut-up hearts freely. 

—Charles Dickens. 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


247 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 

This is one of the most famous fairy stories that has ever 
been written. Read the entire selection silently to enjoy the 
beauty of the story. Select some of the most interesting 
passages to read orally with your best expression. Practise 
reading these passages aloud several times before attempting 
to read them to the class. 

In a secluded and mountainous part of Styria 
there was, in olden times, a valley of the most sur¬ 
prising and luxuriant fertility. It was surrounded 
on all sides by steep and rocky mountains, rising 
into peaks, which were always covered with snow, 
and from which a number of torrents descended in 
constant cataracts. One of these fell westward, 
over the face of a crag so high that, when the sun 
had set to everything else, and all below was dark¬ 
ness, his beams still shone full upon this waterfall, 
so that it looked like a shower of gold. It was there¬ 
fore called by the people of the neighborhood the 
Golden River. It was strange that none of these 
streams fell into the valley itself. They all des¬ 
cended on the other side of the mountains, and wound 
away through broad plains and by populous cities. 
But the clouds were drawn so constantly to the 
snowy hills, and rested so softly in the circular 
hollow, that, in time of drought and heat, when all 
the country round was burned up, there was still 
rain in the little valley; and its crops were so heavy, 
and its hay so high, and its apples so red, and its 
grapes so blue, and its wine so rich, and its honey 
so sweet, that it was a marvel to everyone who beheld 
it, and was commonly called the Treasure Valley. 

The whole of this little valley belonged to three 
brothers, called Schwartz, Hans, and Gluck ^ 


248 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Schwartz and Hans, the two elder brothers, were 
very ugly men, with overhanging eyebrows and 
small, dull eyes, which were always half shut, so 
that you couldn't see into them, and always fancied 
they saw very far into you. They lived by farming 
the Treasure Valley, and very good farmers they 
were. They killed everything that did not pay for 
its eating. They shot the blackbirds, because they 
pecked the fruit; and killed the hedgehogs, lest they 
should suck the cows; they poisoned the crickets 
for eating the crumbs in the kitchen; and smothered 
the cicadas, which used to sing all summer in the 
lime-trees. They worked their servants without any 
wages, till they would not work any more, and then 
quarreled with them, and turned them out of doors 
without paying them. It would have been very odd 
if, with such a farm, and such a system of farming, 
they hadn't got very rich; and very rich they did get. 
They generally contrived to keep their corn by them 
till it was very dear, and then sell it for twice its 
value; they had heaps of gold lying about on their 
floors, yet it was never known that they had given so 
much as a penny or crust in charity; they never 
went to mass; grumbled perpetually at paying 
tithes; and were, in a word, of so cruel and grinding 
a temper, as to receive from all those with whom they 
had any dealings, the nickname of the “Black 
Brothers." 

The youngest brother, Gluck, was as completely 
opposed, in both appearance and character, to his 
seniors as could possibly be imagined or desired. 
He was not above twelve years old, fair, blue-eyed, 
and kind in temper to every living thing. He did 
not, of course, agree particularly well with his 
brothers, or rather, they did not agree with him. 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


249 


He was usually appointed to the honorable office of 
turnspit, when there was anything to roast, which 
was not often; for, to do the brothers justice, they 
were hardly less sparing upon themselves than 
upon other people. At other times he used to clean 
the shoes, the floors, and sometimes the plates, 
occasionally getting what was left on them, by way 
of encouragement, and a wholesome quantity of 
dry blows, by way of education. 

Things went on in this manner for a long time. 
At last came a very wet summer, and everything 
went wrong in the country round. The hay had 
hardly been got in, when the haystacks were floated 
bodily down to the sea by an inundation; the vines 
were cut to pieces by the hail; the corn was all 
killed by a black blight; only in the Treasure Valley, 
as usual, all was safe. As it had rain when there 
was rain nowhere else, so it had sun when there was 
sun nowhere else. Everybody came to buy corn at 
the farm, and went away pouring maledictions on 
the Black Brothers. They asked what they liked 
and got it, except from the poor people, who could 
only beg, and several of whom were starved at their 
very door, without the slightest regard or notice. 

It was drawing toward winter, and very cold 
weather, when one day the two elder brothers had 
gone out, with their usual warning to little Gluck, 
who was left to mind the roast, that he was to let 
nobody in, and give nothing out. Gluck sat down 
quite close to the fire, for it was raining very hard, 
and the kitchen walls were by no means dry or 
comfortable looking. He turned and turned, and 
the roast got nice and brown. “What a pity,” 
thought Gluck, “my brothers never ask anybody to 
dinner. I’m sure, when they've got such a nice 


250 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


piece of mutton as this, and nobody else has got so 
much as a piece of dry bread, it would do their hearts 
good to have somebody to eat it with them.” 

Just as he spoke there came a double knock at the 
housedoor, yet heavy and dull, as though the knocker 
had been tied up,—more like a puff than a knock. 

“It must be the wind,” said Gluck; “nobody else 
would venture to knock double knocks at our door.” 

No; it wasn't the wind; there it came again very 
hard, and, what was particularly astounding, the 
knocker seemed to be in a hurry, and not to be in the 
least afraid of the consequences. Gluck went to the 
window, opened it, and put his head out to see who 
it was. 

It was the most extraordinary-looking little gentle¬ 
man he had ever seen in his life. He had a very large 
nose, slightly brass-colored; his cheeks were very 
round and very red, and might have warranted a 
supposition that he had been blowing a refractory 
fire for the last eight and-forty hours; his eyes 
twinkled merrily through long silky eyelashes, his 
mustaches curled twice round like a corkscrew on 
each side of his mouth, and his hair, of a curious 
mixed pepper-and-salt color, descended far over his 
shoulders. He was about four feet six in height, and 
wore a conical pointed cap of nearly the same alti¬ 
tude, decorated with a black feather some three 
feet long. His doublet was prolonged behind into 
something resembling a violent exaggeration of what 
is now termed a “swallow-tail,” but was much 
obscured by the swelling folds of an enormous 
black, glossy-looking cloak, which must have been 
very much too long in calm weather, as the wind, 
whistling round the old house, carried it clear out 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


251 


from the wearer’s shoulder to about four times 
his own length. 

Gluck was so perfectly paralyzed by the singular 
appearance of his visitor, that he remained fixed 
without uttering a word, until the old gentleman, 
having performed another and more energetic con¬ 
certo on the knocker, turned round to look after his 
fly-away cloak. In so doing he caught sight of 
Gluck’s little yellow head jammed in the window, 
with its mouth and eyes very wide open indeed. 

“Hello!” said the little gentleman, “that’s not the 
way to answer the door; I’m wet, let me in.” 

To do the little gentleman justice, he was wet. 
His feather hung down between his legs like a 
beaten puppy’s tail, dripping like an umbrella; and 
from the ends of his mustaches the water was running 
into his waistcoat pockets and out again like a mill- 
stream. 

“I beg pardon, sir,” said Gluck, “I’m very sorry, 
but I really can’t.” 

“Can’t what?” said the old Gentleman. 

“I can’t let you in, sir,—I can’t, indeed; my 
brothers would beat me to death, sir, if I thought 
of such a thing. What do you want, sir?” 

“Want?” said the old gentleman, petuantly, 
“I want fire and shelter; and there’s your great 
fire there, blazing, crackling, and dancing on the 
walls, with nobody to feel it. Let me in, I say; 
I only want to warm myself.” 

Gluck had had his head, by this time, so long out 
of the window that he began to feel it was really 
unpleasantly cold, and when he turned, and saw the 
beautiful fire rustling and roaring, and. throwing 
long bright tongues up the chimney, as if it were 


252 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


licking its chops at the savory smell of the leg of 
mutton, his heart melted within him that it should 
be burning away for nothing. “He does look very 
wet,” said Little Gluck; ‘Til just let him in for a 
quarter of an hour.” Round he went to the door, 
and opened it; and as the little gentleman walked in, 
through the house came a gust of wind that made 
the old chimneys totter. 

“That’s a good boy,” said the little gentleman. 
“Never mind your brothers. I’ll talk to them.” 

“Pray, sir, don’t do any such thing,” said Gluck. 
“I can’t let you stay till they come; they would be 
the death of me.” 

“Dear me,” said the old gentleman, “I’m very 
sorry to hear that. How long may I stay ?” 

“Only till the mutton’s done, sir,” replied Gluck, 
“and it’s very brown.” 

Then the old gentleman walked into the kitchen, 
and sat himself down on the hob, with the top of his 
cap accommodated up the chimney, for it was a 
great deal too high for the roof. 

“You’ll soon dry there, sir,” said Gluck, and sat 
down again to turn the mutton. But the old 
gentleman did not dry there, but went on drip, 
drip, dripping among the cinders, and the fire 
fizzed and sputtered, and began to look very black 
and uncomfortable; never was such a cloak; every 
fold in it ran like a gutter. 

“I beg pardon sir,” said Gluck at length, after 
watching the water spreading in long, quicksilver¬ 
like streams over the floor for a quarter of an hour; 
“mayn’t I take your cloak?” 

“No, thank you,” said the old gentleman. 

“Your cap, sir?” 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


»53 

‘Tm all right, thank you,” said the old gentleman, 
rather gruffly. 

“But—sir—I’m very sorry,” said Gluck, hesitat¬ 
ingly; “but—really, you’re putting the fire out.” 

“It’ll take longer to do the mutton then,” replied 
his visitor dryly. 

Gluck was very much puzzled by the behavior of 
his guest; it was such a strange mixture of coolness 
and humility. He turned away at the string med¬ 
itatively for another five minutes. 

“That mutton looks very nice,” said the old 
gentleman, at length. “Can’t you give me a little 
bit?” 

“Impossible, sir,” said Gluck. 

“I’m very hungry,” continued the old gentleman; 
“I’ve had nothing to eat yesterday, nor to-day. 
They surely couldn’t miss a bit from the knuckle!” 

He spoke in so very melancholy a tone that it 
quite melted Gluck’s heart. “They promised me 
one slice to-day, sir,” said he; “I can give you that, 
but not a bit more.” 

“That’s a good boy,” said the old gentleman again. 

Then Gluck warmed a plate and sharpened a 
knife. “I don’t care if I do get beaten for it,” 
thought he. Just as he had cut a large slice out of 
the mutton, there came a tremendous rap at the 
door. The old gentleman jumped off the hob, as 
if it had suddenly become inconveniently warm. 
Gluck fitted the slice into the mutton again, with 
desperate efforts at exactitude, and ran to open 
the door. 

“What did you keep us waiting in the rain for?” 
said Schwartz, as he walked in, throwing his un- 
brella in Gluck’s face. 


^54 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


“Ay! what for, indeed, you little vagabond?” said 
Hans, administering an educational box on the ear, 
as he followed his brother into the kitchen. 

“Bless my soul,” said Schwartz, when he opened 
the door. 

“Amen,” said the little gentleman, who had taken 
his cap off, and was standing in the middle of the 
kitchen, bowing with the utmost possible velocity. 

“Who’s that?” said Schwartz, catching up a 
rolling-pin, and turning to Gluck with a fierce frown. 

“I don’t know, indeed, brother,” said Gluck, in 
great terror. 

“How did he get in?” roared Schwartz. 

“My dear brother,” said Gluck, deprecatingly, 
“he was so very wet!” 

The rolling-pin was descending on Gluck’s head; 
but, at the instant, the old gentleman interposed 
his conical cap, on which it crashed with a shock that 
shook the water out of it all over the room. What 
was very odd, the rolling-pin no sooner touched the 
cap, than it flew out of Schwartz’s hand, spinning 
like a straw in a high wind, and fell into the corner 
at the further end of the room. 

“Who are you, sir?” demanded Schwartz, turning 
upon him. 

“What’s your business?” snarled Hans. 

“I’m a poor old man, sir,” the little gentleman 
began very modestly, “and saw your fire through 
the window, and begged shelter for a quarter of an 
hour.” 

“Have the goodness to walk out again, then,” 
said Schwartz. “We’ve quite enough water in our 
kitchen, without making it a drying-house.” 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


255 


“It is a cold day to turn an old man out in, sir; 
look at my gray hairs.” They hung down to his 
shoulders, as I told you before. 

“Ay!” said Hans, “there are enough of them to 
keep you warm. Walk!” 

“I’m very, very hungry ,sir; couldn’t you spare me 
a bit of bread before I go?” 

“Bread, indeed!” said Schwartz; “do you suppose 
we’ve nothing to do with our bread but to give it to 
such red-nosed fellows as you!” 

“Why don’t you sell your feather?” said Hans, 
sneeringly. “Out with you.” 

“A little bit,” said the old gentleman. 

“Be off!” said Schwartz. 

“Pray, gentleman.” 

“Off, and be hanged!” cried Hans, seizing him by 
the collar. But he had no sooner touched the old 
gentleman’s collar, than away he went after the 
rolling-pin, spinning round and round, till he fell into 
the corner on the top of it. Then Schwartz was 
very angry, and ran at the old gentleman to turn him 
out; but he also had hardly touched him, when away 
he went, after Hans and the rolling-pin, and hit his 
head against the wall as he tumbled into the corner. 
And so there they lay, all three. 

Then the old gentleman spun himself round with 
velocity in the opposite direction; continued to spin 
until his long cloak was all wound neatly about him; 
clapped his cap on his head, very much on one side 
(for it could not stand upright without going through 
the ceiling), gave an additional twist to his cork¬ 
screw mustaches, and replied with perfect coolness: 
“Gentlemen, I wish you a very good morning. At 
twelve o’clock to-night I’ll call again; after such a 


256 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


refusal of hospitality as I have just experienced 
you will not be surprised if that visit is the last I ever 
pay you.” 

“If ever I catch you here again,” muttered 
Schwartz, coming half frightened, out of the corner, 
—but before he could finish his sentence, the old 
gentleman had shut the house-door behind him with 
a great bang; and past the window, at the same in¬ 
stant, drove a wreath of ragged cloud, that whirled 
and rolled away down the valley in all manner of 
shapes; turning over and over in the air; and melting 
away at last in a gush of rain. 

“A very pretty business, indeed, Mr. Gluck!” 
said Schwartz. “Dish the mutton, sir. If ever I 
catch you at such a trick again—Bless me, why the 
mutton's been cut!” 

“You promised me one slice, brother, you know,” 
said Gluck. 

“Oh! and you were cutting it hot, I suppose, and 
going to catch all the gravy. It’ll be long before I 
promise you such a thing again. Leave the room, 
sir; and have the kindness to wait in the coal-cellar 
till I call you.” 

Gluck left the room melancholy enough. The 
brothers ate as much of the mutton as they could, 
locked the rest in the cupboard, and proceeded to 
get very drunk after dinner. 

Such a night as it was! Howling wind and rushing 
rain without intermission. The brothers had just 
sense enough left to put up all the shutters and double 
bar the door, before they went to bed. They usually 
slept in the same room. As the clock struck twelve 
they were both awakened by a tremendous crash. 
Their door burst open with a violence that shook the 
house from top to bottom. 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


257 

“What's that?" cried Schwartz, starting up in his 
bed. 

“Only I," said the little gentleman. 

The two brothers sat up on their bolster, and 
stared into the darkness. The room was full of 
water, and by a misty moonbeam, which found its 
way through a hole in the shutter, they could see, 
in the midst of it, an enormous foam globe, spinning 
round, and bobbing up and down like a cork, on 
which as on a most luxurious cushion, reclined the 
little old gentleman, cap and all. There was plenty 
of room for it now, for the roof was off. 

“Sorry to incommode you," said their visitor, 
ironically. “I'm afraid your beds are dampish; 
perhaps you had better go to your brother's room; 
I've left the ceiling on there." 

They required no second admonition, but rushed 
into Gluck’s room, wet through, and in an agony of 
terror. 

“You'll find my card on the kitchen table," the 
old gentleman called after them. “Remember, the 
last visit." 

“Pray heaven it may be!" said Schwartz, 
shuddering. And the foam globe disappeared. 

Dawn came at last, and the two brothers looked 
out of Gluck's little room in the morning. The 
Treasure Valley was a mass of ruin and desolation. 
The inundation had swept away trees, crops, and 
cattle, and left, in their stead, a waste of red sand 
and gray mud. The two brothers crept shivering 
and horror-struck, into the kitchen. The water had 
gutted the whole floor; corn, money, almost every 
movable thing had been swept away, and there was 
left only a small white card on the kitchen table. 


258 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


On it, in large, breezy, long-legged letters, were 
engraved the words :- 

SOUTHWEST WIND, ESQUIRE 
II 

Southwest Wind, esquire, was as good as his 
word. After the momentous visit above related, he 
entered the Treasure Valley no more; and, what wa6 
worse, he had so much influence with his relations,, 
the West Winds in general, and used it so effectually,, 
that they all adopted a similar line of conduct. So no 
rain fell in the valley from one year’s end to another. 
Though everything remained green and flourishing 
in the plains below, the inheritance of the Three 
Brothers was a desert. What had once been the 
richest soil in the kingdom became a shifting heap of 
red sand; and the brothers, unable longer to contend 
with adverse skies, abandoned their valueless patri¬ 
mony in despair, to seek some means of gaining a 
livelihood among the cities and people of the plains. 
All their money was gone, and they had nothing 
left but some curious, oldfashioned pieces of gold 
plate, the last remnants of their ill-gotten wealth. 

“Suppose we turn goldsmiths?” said Schwartz to 
Hans, as they entered the large city. “It is a good 
knave’s trade: we can put a good deal of copper 
into the gold, without any one’s finding it out.” 

The thought was agreed to be a very good one, they 
hired a furnace, and turned goldsmiths. But two 
slight circumstances affected their trade; the first, that 
people did not approve of the coppered gold; the sec¬ 
ond, that the two elder brothers, whenever they had 
sold anything, used to leave little Gluck to mind the 
furnace, and go and drink out the money in the ale- 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


259 


house next door. So they melted all their gold, 
without making money enough to buy more, and 
were at last reduced to one large drinking-mug, 
which an uncle of his had given to little Gluck, and 
which he was very fond of, and would not have 
parted with for the world: though he never drank 
anything out of it but milk and water. The 
mug was a very odd mug to look at. The 
handle was formed of two wreaths of flowing 
golden hair, so finely spun that it looked more like 
silk than like metal, and these wreaths descended 
into, and mixed with, a beard and whiskers, of the 
same exquisite workmanship, which surrounded and 
decorated a very fierce little face, of the reddest gold 
imaginable, right in the front of the mug, with a 
pair of eyes in it which seemed to command its 
whole circumference. It was impossible to drink 
out of the mug, without being subjected to an intense 
gaze out of the side of these eyes; and Schwartz 
positively averred that once, after emptying it full 
of Rhenish seventeen times, he had seen them winkl 
When it came to the mug’s turn to be made into 
spoons, it half broke poor little Gluck’s heart; but 
the brothers only laughed at him, tossed the mug into 
the melting-pot, and staggered out to the ale-house, 
leaving him, as usual, to pour the gold into bars, 
when it was all ready. 

When they were gone, Gluck took a farewell look 
at his old friend in the melting-pot. The flowing 
hair was all gone; nothing remained but the red nose, 
and the sparkling eyes, which looked more malicious 
than ever. “And no wonder,” thought Gluck, 
“after being treated in that way,” He sauntered 
disconsolately to the window, and sat himself down 
to catch the fresh evening air, and escape the hot 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


260 

breath of the furnace. Now this window commanded 
a direct view of the range of mountains which, as I 
told you before, overhung the Treasure Valley, and 
more especially of the peak from which fell the 
Golden River. It was just at the close of the day, 
and, when Gluck sat down at the window, he saw the 
rocks of the mountain-tops, all crimson and purple 
with the sunset; and there were bright tongues of 
fiery cloud burning and quivering about them; and 
the river, brighter than all, fell, in a waving column 
of pure gold, from precipice to precipice, with the 
double arch of a broad, purple rainbow stretched 
across it, flushing and fading alternately in the 
wreaths of spray. 

“Ah!” said Gluck aloud, after he had looked at it 
for a little while, “if that river were really gold, what 
a nice thing it would be!” 

“No, it wouldn’t Gluck.” said a clear, metallic 
voice, close at his ear. 

“Bless me, what’s that?” exclaimed Gluck, jump¬ 
ing up. There was nobody there. He looked around 
the room and under the table, and a great many 
times behind him, but there was certainly nobody 
there, and he sat down again at the window. This 
time he didn’t speak but he couldn’t help thinking 
again that it would be very convenient if the river 
were really all gold. 

“Not at all, my boy,” said the same voice, louder 
than before. 

“Bless me!” said Gluck again, “what is that?” 
He looked again into all the corners and cupboards, 
and then began turning round and round, as fast 
as he could, in the middle of the room, thinking there 
was somebody behind him, when the same voice 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 261 

struck again on his ear. It was singing now very 
merrily Lala-lira-la," no words, only a soft running 
effervescent melody, something like that of a kettle 
on the boil. Gluck looked out of the window. No, it 
was certainly in the house. Upstairs, and down¬ 
stairs. No, it was certainly in that very room, 
coming in quicker time and clearer notes every 
moment. “Lala-lira-la." All at once it struck 
Gluck that it sounded louder near the furnace. 
He ran to the opening and looked in; yes, he saw 
right, it seemed to be coming, not only out of the 
furnace, but out of the pot. He uncovered it, and 
ran back in great fright, for the pot was certainly 
singing. He stood in the farthest corner of the room, 
with his hands up, and his mouth open, for a minute 
or two, when the singing stopped, and the voice be¬ 
came clear and pronunciative. 

“Hello!" said the voice. 

Gluck made no answer. 

“Hello! Gluck, my boy, ,, said the pot again. 

Gluck summoned all his energies, walked straight 
up to the crucible, drew it out of the furnace, and 
looked in. The gold was all melted and its surface 
as smooth and polished as a river; but instead of 
its reflecting little Gluck's head, as he looked in, 
he saw meeting his glance, from beneath the gold, 
the red nose and sharp eyes of his old friend of the 
mug, a thousand times redder and sharper than ever 
he had seen them in his life. 

“Come, Gluck, my boy," said the voice of the 
pot again, “I'm all right; pour me out." 

But Gluck was too much astonished to do anything 
of the kind. 

“Poqr me out, I say," said the voice rather gruffly. 


262 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Still Gluck couldn’t move. 

“Will you pour me out?” said the voice passionate¬ 
ly. ‘Tm too hot.” 

By a violent effort, Gluck recovered the use of his 
limbs, took hold of the crucible, and sloped it so as 
to pour out the gold. But instead of a liquid stream 
there came out, first, a pair of pretty little yellow legs, 
then some coat-tails, then a pair of arms stuck 
akimbo, and, finally, the well-known head of his 
friend the mug; all which articles, uniting as they 
rolled out, stood up energetically on the floor, in the 
shape of a li ttlegolden dwarf about a foot and a half high. 

“That’s right,” said the dwarf, stretching out 
first his legs and then his arms, and then shaking 
his head up and down, and as far round as it would 
go, for five minutes, without stopping; apparently 
with the view of ascertaining if he were quite 
correctly put together, while Gluck stood contem¬ 
plating him in speechless amazement. He was 
dressed in a slashed doublet of spun gold, so fine in 
its texture that the prismatic colors gleamed over it, 
as if on a surface of mother-of-pearl; and over this 
brilliant doublet his hair and beard fell full half-way 
to the ground, in waving curls, so exquisitely 
delicate that Gluck could hardly tell where they 
ended; they seemed to melt into air. The features 
of the face, however, were by no means finished 
with the same delicacy; they were rather coarse, 
slightly inclining to coppery in complexion, and 
indicative, in expression, of a very pertinacious 
and intractable disposition in their small proprietor. 
When the dwarf had finished his self-examination, 
he turned his small, sharp eyes full on Gluck, and 
stared at him deliberately for a minute or two. “No, 
it wouldn’t Gluck, my boy,” said the little man. 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 263 


This was certainly rather an abrupt and un¬ 
connected mode of commencing conversation. It 
might indeed be supposed to refer to the course of 
Gluck’s thoughts, which had first produced the 
dwarf’s observations out of the pot; but whatever 
it referred to, Gluck had no inclination to dispute 
the dictum. 

“Wouldn’t it, sir?” said Gluck, very mildly and 
submissively indeed. 

“No,” said the dwarf conclusively. “No, it 
wouldn’t.” And with that the dwarf pulled his cap 
hard over his brows, and took two turns of three 
feet long, up and down the room lifting his legs very 
high, and setting them down very hard. This pause 
gave time for Gluck to collect his thoughts a little 
and, seeing no great reason to view his diminutive 
visitor with dread, and feeling his curiosity overcome 
his amazement, he ventured on a question of 
peculiar delicacy. 

“Pray, sir,” said Gluck, rather hesitatingly, “were 
you in my mug?” 

On which the little man turned sharp round, 
walked straight up to Gluck, and drew himself up to 
his full height. “I,” said the little man, “am the 
king of the Golden River.” Whereupon he turned 
about again, and took two more turns, some six feet 
long, in order to allow time for the consternation 
which this announcement produced in his auditor to 
evaporate. After which he again walked up to Gluck 
and stood still, as if expecting some comment on his 
communication. 

Gluck determined to say something, at all events. 
“I hope your Majesty is very well,” said Gluck. 

“Listen!” said the little man, deigning no reply 


264 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 































































































































































THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 265 


to this polite inquiry. “I am the king of what you 
mortals call the Golden River. The shape you saw 
me in was owing to the malice of a stronger king, 
from whose enchantments you have this instant 
freed me. What I have seen of you, and your conduct 
to your wicked brothers, renders me willing to serve 
you; therefore attend to what I tell you. Whoever 
shall climb to the top of tha.t mountain from which 
you see the Golden River issue, and shall cast into 
the stream at its source three drops of holy water, 
for him, and for him only, the river shall turn to gold. 
But no one failing in his first can succeed in a 
second attempt; and if anyone shall cast unholy 
water into the river it will overwhelm him, and he will 
become a black stone.” So saying, the King of the 
Golden River turned away, and deliberately walked 
into the center of the hottest flame of the furnace. 
His figure became red, white, transparent, dazzling,— 
a blaze of intense light,—rose, trembled and dis¬ 
appeared. The King of the Golden River had 
evaporated. 

“Oh!” cried poor Gluck, running to look up the 
chimney after him; “oh dear, dear, dear me! My 
mug! my mug! my mug! 

Ill 

The King of the Golden River had hardly made his 
extraordinary exit before Hans and Schwartz came 
roaring into the house, very savagely drunk. 
The discovery of the total loss of their last piece of 
plate had the effect of sobering them just enough to 
enable them to stand over Gluck, beating him very 
steadily for a quarter of an hour; at the expiration 
of which period they dropped into a couple of chairs, 
and requested to know what he had got to say for 


266 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


himself. Gluck told them his story, of which, of 
course, they did not believe a word. They beat him 
again, till their arms were tired, and staggered to bed. 
In the morning, however, the steadiness with which 
he adhered to his story obtained him some degree of 
credence; the immediate consequence of which was, 
that the two brothers, after wrangling a long time 
on the knotty question which of them should try 
his fortune first, drew their swords, and began 
fighting. The noise of the fray alarmed the neigh¬ 
bors, who, finding they could not pacify the comba¬ 
tants, sent for the constable. 

Hans, on hearing this, contrived to escape, and 
hid himself; but Schwartz was taken before the 
magistrate, fined for breaking the peace, and having 
drunk out his last penny the evening before, he was 
thrown into prison till he should pay. 

When Hans heard this, he was much delighted, 
and determined to set out immediately for the 
Golden River. How to get the holy water was the 
question. He went to the priest, but the priest could 
not give any holy water to so abandoned a character. 
So Hans went to vespers in the evening for the first 
time in his life, and, under pretense of crossing 
himself, stole a cupful, and returned home in triumph. 

Next morning he got up before the sun rose, put 
the holy water into a strong flask, and two bottles of 
wine and some meat in a basket, slung them over his 
back, took his alpine staff in his hand, and set off 
for the mountains. 

On his way out of the town he had to pass the 
prison, and as he looked in at the windows, whom 
should he see but Schwartz himself peeking out of 
the bars, and looking very disconsolate. 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 267 

Good morning, brother,” said Hans; “have you 
any message for the King of the Golden River?” 

Schwartz gnashed his teeth with rage, and shook 
the bars with all his strength; but Hans only laughed 
at him, and advising him to make himself comfortable 
till he came back again, shouldered his basket, shook 
the bottle of holy water in Schwartz's face till it 
frothed again, and marched off in the highest 
spirits in the world. 

It was, indeed, a morning that might have made 
anyone happy, even with no Golden River to seek for. 
Level lines of dewy mist lay stretched along the 
valley, out of which rose the massy mountains— 
their lower cliffs in pale gray shadow, hardly dis¬ 
tinguishable from the floating vapor, but gradually 
ascending till they caught the sunlight, which ran in 
sharp touches of ruddy color along the angular 
crags, and pierced, in long level rays, through their 
fringes of spearlike pine. Far above shot up red 
splintered masses of castellated rock, jagged and 
shivered into myriads of fantastic forms, with here 
and there a streak of sunlit snow. 

The Golden River, which sprang from one of the 
lower and snowless elevations, was now nearly in' 
shadow; all but the uppermost jets of spray, which 
rose like slow smoke above the undulating line of 
cataract, and floated away in feeble wreaths upon 
the morning wind 

On this object, and on this alone, Hans's eyes and 
thoughts were fixed; forgetting the distance he had to 
traverse, he set off at an imprudent rate of walking, 
which greatly exhausted him before he had scaled 
the first range of the green and low hills. He was 
moreover, surprised, on surmounting them, to find 
that a large glacier, of whose existence, notwith- 


268 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


standing his previous knowledge of the mountains, 
he had been absolutely ignorant, lay between him 
and the source of the Golden River. He entered on 
it with the boldness of a practiced mountaineer; yet 
he thought he had never traversed so strange or so 
dangerous a glacier in his life. The ice was excessive¬ 
ly slippery, and out of all its chasms came wild sounds 
of gushing water; not monotonous or low, but 
changeful and loud, rising occasionally into drifting 
passages of wild melody, then breaking off into short, 
melancholy tones, or sudden shrieks, resembling those 
of human voices in distress or pain. The ice was 
broken into thousands of confused shapes, but none, 
Hans thought, like the ordinary forms of splintered 
ice. There seemed a curious expression about all 
their outlines,—a perpetual resemblance to living 
features, distorted and scornful. Myriads of deceitful 
shadows and lurid lights played and floated about and 
through the pale blue pinnacles, dazzling and con¬ 
fusing the sight of the traveler; while his ears grew 
dull and his head giddy with the constant gush and 
roar of the concealed waters. These painful cir¬ 
cumstances increased upon him as he advanced; 
the ice crashed and yawned into fresh chasms at his 
feet, tottering spires nodded around him, and fell 
thundering across his path; and though he had 
repeatedly faced these dangers on the most terrific 
glaciers, and in the wildest weather, it was with a 
new and oppressive feeling of panic terror that he 
leaped the last chasm, and flung himself, exhausted 
and shuddering, on the firm turf of the mountain. 

He had been compelled to abandon his basket of 
food, which became a perilous incumbrance on the 
glacier, and had now no means of refreshing himself 
but by breaking off and eating some of the pieces of 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 269 

ice. This, however, relieved his thirst; an hour’s 
repose recruited his hardy frame, and, with the 
indomitable spirit of avarice, he resumed his laborious 
journey. 

His way now lay straight up a ridge of bare, red 
rocks, without a blade of grass to ease the foot or a 
projecting angle to afford an inch of shade from the 
south sun. It was past noon, and the rays beat in¬ 
tensely upon the steep path, while the whole at¬ 
mosphere was motionless, and penetrated with heat. 
Intense thirst was soon added to the bodily fatigue 
with which Hans was now afflicted; glance after 
glance he cast on the flask of water which hung at 
his belt. “Three drops are enough,” at last thought 
he; “I may, at least, cool my lips with it.” 

He opened the flask, and was raising it to his lips, 
when his eye fell on an object lying on the rock 
beside him; he thought it moved. It was a small dog, 
apparently in the last agony of death from thirst. 
Its tongue was out, its jaws dry, its limbs extended 
lifelessly, and a swarm of black ants were crawling 
about its lips and throat. Its eye moved to the 
bottle which Hans held in his hand. He raised it, 
drank, spurned the animal with his foot, and passed 
on. And he did not know how it was, but he thought 
that a strange shadow had suddenly come across the 
blue sky. 

The path became steeper and more rugged every 
moment; and the high hill air, instead of refreshing 
him, seemed to throw his blood into a fever. The 
noise of the hill cataracts sounded like mockery in 
his ears; they were all distant, and his thirst increased 
every moment. Another hour passed, and he again 
looked down to the flask at his side; it was half 
empty, but there was much more than three drops in 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


270 

it. He stopped to open it, and again, as he did so, 
something moved in the path above him. It was a 
fair child stretched nearly lifeless on the rock, its 
breast heaving with thirst, its eyes closed and its lips 
parched and burning. Hans eyed it deliberately, 
drank, and passed on. And a dark gray cloud came 
over the sun; and long snake-like shadows crept 
up along the mountain sides. 

Hans struggled on. The sun was sinking, but 
its descent seemed to bring no coolness; the leaden 
weight of the dead air pressed upon his brow and 
heart, but the goal was near. He saw the cataract of 
the Golden River springing from the hillside, scarcely 
five hundred feet above him. He paused for a 
moment to breathe, and sprang on to complete his 
task. 

At this instant a faint cry fell on his ear. He 
turned, and saw a gray-haired old man extended on 
the rocks. His eyes were sunken, his features deadly 
pale, and gathered into an expression of despair. 
“Water!” He stretched his arms to Hans, and cried 
feebly,—“Water! I am dying.” 

“I have none,” replied Hans; “thou hast had thy 
share of life.” He strode over the prostrate body, 
and darted on. And a flash of blue lightning rose 
out of the east, shaped like a sword; it shook thrice 
over the whole heaven, and left it dark with one 
heavy, impenetrable shade. The sun was setting; 
it plunged toward the horizon like a red-hot ball. 

The roar of the Golden River rose on Hans’s ear. 
He stood at the brink of the chasm through which it 
ran. Its waves were filled with the red glory of the 
sunset; they shook their crests like tongues of fire, 
and flashes of bloody light gleamed along their foam. 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


27I 

Their sound came mightier and mightier on his 
senses; his brain grew giddy with the prolonged 
thunder. Shuddering, he drew the flask from his 
girdle, and hurled it into the center of the torrent. 
As he did so, an icy chill shot through his limbs; 
he staggered, shrieked and fell. The waters closed 
over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose 
wildly into the night, as it gushed over— 

THE BLACK STONE 
IV 

Poor little Gluck waited very anxiously alone in 
the house for Hans’s return. Finding that he did not 
come back, he was terribly frightened, and went and 
told Schwartz in the prison all that had happened. 
Then Schwartz was very much pleased, and said 
that Hans must certainly have been turned into a 
black stone, and he should have all the gold to 
himself. But Gluck was very sorry, and cried all 
night. When he got up in the morning, there was 
no bread in the house, nor any money; so Gluck 
went and hired himself to another goldsmith, and 
he worked so hard and so neatly, and so long every 
day, that he soon got money enough together to pay 
his brother’s fine, and he went and gave it all to 
Schwartz, and Schwartz got out of prison. Then 
Schwartz was quite pleased, and said he should have 
some of the gold of the river. But Gluck only begged 
that he would go and see what had become of Hans. 

Now when Schwartz had learned that Hans had 
stolen the holy water, he thought to himself that 
such a proceeding might not be considered altogether 
correct by the King of the Golden River, and deter¬ 
mined to manage matters better. So Schwartz got 


1-J1 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


up early in the morning, before the sun, took some 
more of Gluck’s money and went to a bad priest 
who gave him some holy water very readily for it. 
Then Schwartz was sure it was all quite right. 
He rose, and took some bread and wine in a basket, 
and put his holy water in a flask, and set off for the 
mountains. Like his brother, he was much sur¬ 
prised at the sight of the glacier, and had great 
difficulty in crossing it, even after leaving his basket 
behind him. The day was cloudless, but not bright; 
a heavy purple haze was hanging over the sky and 
the hills looked lowering and gloomy. And as 
Schwartz climbed the steep rock path, the thirst 
came upon him, as it had upon his brother, until he 
lifted the flask to his lips to drink. Then he saw 
the fair child lying near him on the rocks, and it 
cried to him, and moaned for water. 

“Water, indeed,” said Schwartz; “I haven’t half 
enough for myself,” and passed on. And as he went 
he thought that the sunbeams grew more dim. and he 
saw a low bank of black clouds rising out of the west; 
and when he had climbed for another hour the thirst 
overcame him again, and he would have drunk. 
Then he saw the old man lying before him on the 
path, and he heard him cry out for water. “Water, 
indeed,” said Schwartz; “I haven’t half enough for 
myself,” and on he went. 

Then again the light seemed to fade from before 
his eyes, and he looked up, and, behold, a mist, of the 
color of blood, had come over the sun; and the bank 
of black cloud had risen very high, and its edges were 
tossing and tumbling like the waves of the angry sea. 
And they cast long shadows which flickered over 
Schwartz’s path. 

Then Schwartz climbed for another hour, and 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


2 73 

again his thirst returned; and as he lifted his flask 
to his lips, he thought he saw his brother Hans 
lying exhausted on the path before him, and as he 
gazed, the figure stretched its arms to him, and cried 
for water. “Ha, ha,” laughed Schwartz “are you 
there? Remember the prison bars, my boy. Water, 
indeed! do you suppose I carried it all the way up here 
for you?” And he strode over the figure; yet, as he 
passed, he thought he saw a strange expression of 
mockery about its lips. And, when he had gone a 
few rods farther, he looked back; but the figure was 
not there. 

And a sudden horror came over Schwartz, he knew 
not why; but the thirst for gold prevailed over his 
fear, and he rushed on. And the bank of black 
clouds rose to the zenith, and out of it came bursts of 
spiry lightning, and waves of darkness seemed to 
heave and float between their flashes, over the whole 
heavens. And the sky where the sun was setting 
was all level, and like a lake of blood; and a strong 
wind came out of that sky, tearing its crimson 
clouds into fragments, and scattering them far 
into the darkness. And when Schwartz stood by 
the brink of the Golden River, its waves were 
black like thunderclouds, but their foam was like 
fire; and the roar of the waters below and the thunder 
above met, as he cast the flask into the stream. And, 
as he did so, the lightning glared in his eyes, and the 
'earth gave way beneath him, and the waters closed 
over his cry. And the moaning of the river rose 
wildly into the night, as it gushed over— 


THE TWO BLACK STONES 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


274 


V 

When Gluck found that Schwartz did not come 
back, he was very sorry, and did not know what to do. 
He had no money, and was obliged to go and hire 
himself again to the goldsmith, who worked him 
very hard, and gave him very little money. So, 
after a month or two, Gluck grew tired, and made 
up his mind to go and try his fortune with the 
Golden River. “The little king looked very kind,” 
thought he. “I don’t think he will turn me into a 
black stone.” So he went to the priest, and the 
priest gave him some holy water as soon as he asked 
for it. Then Gluck took some bread in his basket, 
and the bottle of water, and set off very early for 
the mountains. 

If the glacier had occasioned a great deal of fatigue 
to his brothers, it was twenty times worse for him, 
who was neither so strong nor so practiced on the 
mountains. He had several very bad falls, lost his 
basket and bread, and was very much frightened at 
the strange noises under the ice. He lay a long time 
to rest on the grass, after he had got over, and 
began to climb the hill just in the hottest part of the 
day. When he had climbed for an hour, he got 
dreadfully thirsty, and was going to drink like his 
brothers, when he saw an old man coming down the 
path above him, looking very feeble and leaning on 
a staff. “My son,” said the old man, “I am faint 
with thirst; give me some of that water.” Then 
Gluck looked at him, and when he saw that he was 
pale and weary, he gave him the water; “Only pray 
don’t drink it all,” said Gluck. But the old man 
drank a great deal, and gave him back the bottle 
two-thirds empty. Then he bade him good speed, 
and Gluck went on again merrily. And the path 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


275 

became easier to his feet, and two or three blades 
of grass appeared upon it, and some grasshoppers 
began singing on the bank beside it; and Gluck 
thought he had never heard such merry singing. 

Then he went on for another hour, and the thirst 
increased on him so that he thought he should be 
forced to drink. But, as he raised his flask, he saw 
a little child lying panting by the roadside, and it 
cried out piteously for water. Then Gluck struggled 
with himself and determined to bear the thirst a 
little longer; and he put the bottle to the child’s lips, 
and it drank it all but a few drops. Then it smiled 
on him and got small as a little star, and then turned, 
and began climbing again. And then there were, 
all kinds of sweet flowers growing on the rocks, 
bright green moss, with pale pink starry flowers 
and soft-belled gentians, more blue than the sky 
at its deepest, and pure white transparent lilies. 
And crimson and purple butterflies darted hither and 
thither, and the sky sent down such pure light that 
Gluck had never felt so happy in his life. 

Yet, when he had climbed for another hour, his 
thirst became intolerable again; and when he looked 
at his bottle, he saw that there were only five or 
six drops left in it, and he could not venture to drink. 
And as he was hanging the flask to his belt again, 
he saw a little dog lying on the rocks, gasping for 
breath,—just as Hans had seen it, and then at the 
Golden River, not five hundred yards above him; 
and he thought of the dwarf’s words, “that no one 
could succeed, except in his first attempt;” and he 
tried to pass the dog, but it whined piteously, and 
Gluck stopped again. “Poor beastie,” said Gluck, 
“it’ll be dead when I come down again, if I don’t 
help it.” Then he looked closer and closer at it, 


2y6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


and its eye turned on him so mournfully that he 
could not stand it. “Confound the King and his 
gold, too,” said Gluck; and he opened the flask and 
poured all the water into the dog’s mouth. 

The dog sprang up and stood on its hind legs. 
Its tail disappeared, its ears became long, longer, 
silky, golden; its nose became very red, its eyes 
became very twinkling; in three seconds the dog was 
gone, and before Gluck stood his old acquaintance, 
the King of the Golden River. 

“Thank you,” said the monarch; “but don’t be 
frightened; it’s all right;” for Gluck showed manifest 
symptoms of consternation at this unlooked-for 
reply to his last observation. “Why didn’t you come 
before,” continued the dwarf, “instead of sending 
me those rascally brothers of yours, for me to have 
the trouble of turning into stones? Very hard stones 
they make, too.” 

“Oh, dear rfie!” said Gluck, “have you really been 
so cruel?” 

“Cruel?” said the dwarf; “they poured unholy 
water into my stream; do you suppose I am going 
to allow that?” 

“Why,” said Gluck, “I am sure, sir,—your 
Majesty, I mean,—they got the water out of the 
church font.” 

“Very probably,” replied the dwarf; “but,” and 
his countenance grew stern as he spoke, “the water 
which has been refused to the cry of the weary and 
dying is unholy, though it had been blessed by 
every saint in heaven; and the water which is found 
in the vessel of mercy is holy, though it had been 
defiled with corpses.” 

So saying, the dwarf stooped and plucked a lily 


THE KING OF THE GOLDEN RIVER 


277 


that grew at his feet. On its white leaves hung 
three drops of clear dew, and the dwarf shook them 
into the flask, which Gluck held in his hand. “Cast 
these into the river,” he said, “and descend on the 
other side of the mountains into the Treasure Valley. 
And so good speed.” 

As he spoke, the figure of the dwarf became 
indistinct. The playing colors of his robe formed 
themselves into a prismatic mist of dewy light; 
He stood for an instant veiled with them as with the 
belt of a broad rainbow. The colors grew faint, the 
mist rose into the air; the monarch had evaporated. 

And Gluck climbed to the brink of the Golden 
River, and its waves were as clear as crystal, and as 
brilliant as the sun. And when he cast the three 
drops of dew into the stream, there opened where 
they fell a small circular whirlpool, into which the 
waters descended with a musical noise. 

Gluck stood watching it for some time, very much 
disappointed, because not only the river was not 
turned into gold, but its waters seemed much 
diminished in quantity. Yet he obeyed his friend 
the dwarf, and descended the other side of the 
mountains, toward the Treasure Valley; and, as he 
went, he thought he heard the noise of water working 
its way under the ground. And when he came in 
sight of the Treasure Valley, behold, a river, like 
the Golden River, was springing from a new cleft 
of the rocks above it, and was flowing in innumerable 
streams among the dry heaps of red sand. 

And as Gluck gazed, fresh grass sprang beside 
the new streams, and creeping plants grew, and 
climbed among the moistening soil. Young flowers 
opened suddenly along the river sides, as stars leap 


278 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


out when twilight is deepening, and thickets of myrtle 
and tendrils of vine cast lengthening shadows over 
the valley as they grew. And thus the Treasure 
Valley became a garden again, and the inheritance, 
which had been lost by cruelty, was regained by 
love. 

And Gluck went and dwelt in the valley, and the 
poor were never driven from his door; so that his 
barns became full of corn, and his house of treasure. 
And, for him, the river had, according to the dwarf's 
promise, become a River of Gold. 

And to this day the inhabitants of the valley point 
out the place where the three drops of holy dew were 
cast into the stream, and trace the course of the 
Golden River under the ground, until it emerges in 
the Treasure Valley. And at the top of the cataract 
of the Golden River are still to be seen two black 
stones, round which the waters howl mournfully 
every day at sunset; and these stones are still called, 
by the people of the valley, THE BLACK 
BROTHERS. 

— John Ruskin. 

Topics for Discussion 

1. Why do you like Fairy Stories? 

2. Name other Fairy Stories you have read. 

3. How does a Fairy Story differ from other stories? 

4. What did you like most about this story? 


THE FIR TREE 


279 


SPEED TEST VI 

You are to read the story of “The Fir Tree” as rapidly as 
you can, following the same instructions that you were given 
on page 3 for Speed Test I. It will be of interest to you to 
compare your average rate of reading now with the rate made 
when you started reading this book. How much have you 
improved your speed? 


THE FIR TREE 
In the Forest 

Far away in the deep forest there once grew a 
pretty little Fir Tree. The sun shone full upon 
him and the breezes played freely round him. Near 
him grew many other fir trees, some older, some 
younger, but the little Fir Tree was not happy, for 
he was always wishing to be tall like the others. 

He thought not of the warm sun and the fresh air, 
and he did not care for the merry country children 
who came to the forest to look for strawberries and 
raspberries. Sometimes, after having filled their 
pitchers, or made the bright berries into a chain with 
straw, they would sit down near the little Fir Tree 
and say: “What a pretty little tree this is!” Then 
the Fir Tree would feel more unhappy than ever. 

“Oh, that I were as tall as the other trees!” sighed 
the little Fir; “then I should spread my branches on 
every side, and my top should look over the wide 
world! The birds would build their nests among 
my branches, and when the wind blew, I should 
bend my head so grandly, just as the others do!” 
He had no joy in the sunshine, in the song of birds, 
or in the rosy clouds that sailed over him every 
morning and evening. 


28 o 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


In winter, when the ground was covered with the 
bright, white snow, a hare would sometimes come 
running along, and jump right over the little Tree’s 
head; and then how sad he felt. However, two 
winters passed away, and by the third the Tree was 
so tall that the hare had to run round it. “Oh, if 
I could but grow and grow, and become tall and old!” 
thought the Tree. “That is the only thing in the 
world worth living for.” 

The woodcutters came in the autumn and felled 
some of the largest of the trees. This took place 
every year, and our young Fir, who was by this 
time a good height, began to shake when he saw 
those grand trees fall with a crash to the earth. Their 
branches were then cut off. The stems looked so 
naked and lanky that the Fir Tree hardly knew them. 
They were laid one upon another in carts, and horses 
drew them away, far, far away from the forest. 

Where could they be going? What would happen 
to them? The Fir Tree wished very much to know, 
so in the spring, when the swallows and the storks 
came back, he asked them if they knew where the 
felled trees had been taken. 

The swallows knew nothing. But the stork 
thought for a moment, then nodded his head and 
said: “Yes, I think I have seen them. As I was 
flying to this country I met many ships. They 
had fine new masts that smelt like fir. I am sure 
that they were the trees that you speak of. They 
were tall, very tall, I can tell you.” 

“Oh, I wish that I too was tall enough to sail upon 
the sea! Tell me what is this sea, and what does it 
look like?” said the Fir Tree. 

“That,” said the stork, “would take too long a 
time to tell,” and away he went. 


THE FIR TREE 


281 


“Be glad that you are young!” said the sunbeams. 
“Enjoy your fresh youth, and the young life that is 
within you!” 

The wind kissed the tree, and the dew wept tears 
over him, but the Fir Tree did not know what they 
meant. 

When Christmas drew near, many quite young 
trees were felled, some of them not so tall as the 
young Fir Tree who was always wishing to be away. 
Their branches were not cut off. They too were 
laid in a cart, and horses drew them away from the 
forest. 

“Where are they going?” asked the Fir Tree. 
“They are no taller than I; indeed one of them is 
much less. Why do they keep all their branches? 
Where can they be going?” 

“We know! We know!” chirped the sparrows. 
“We peeped through the windows in the town below. 
We know where they are gone. Oh, you cannot 
think what honor is done to them! We looked 
through the windows and saw them planted in a 
warm room, and decked out with such beautiful 
things: gilded apples, sweets, playthings, and hun¬ 
dreds of bright candles!” 

“And then?” asked the Fir Tree, shaking in every 
branch; “and then? what happened then?” 

“Oh, we saw no more! That was beautiful, 
beautiful beyond anything we have ever seen,” 
chirped the sparrows. 

“Is such a glorious lot to be mine?” cried the Fir 
Tree in its great joy. “This is far better than sailing 
over the sea. How I long for the time! Oh, I wish 
that Christmas was come! I am now tall and have 
many branches, like those trees that were taken 


2.82 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


away last year. Oh, I wish that I was in the warm 
room, honored and adorned!” 

“Enjoy our love!” said the air and the sunshine. 
“Enjoy your youth and your freedom!” 

But be glad he would not. He grew taller every 
day. In winter and summer he stood there clothed 
in dark green leaves. The people that saw him said, 
“That is a beautiful tree!” And next Christmas he 
was the first that was felled. The axe cut through 
the wood and pith, and the tree fell to the earth 
with a deep groan. 


Christmas Eve 

The Tree first came to himself when, in the 
courtyard to which he had been taken with the other 
trees, he heard a man say: “This is a beautiful one, 
the very thing we want!” 

Then came two finely dressed servants and took 
the Fir Tree into a large and beautiful drawing-room. 
Pictures hung on the walls, and on the mantelpiece 
stood large vases with lions on the lids. There were 
rocking-chairs, silken sofas, tables covered with 
picture books and toys. The Fir Tree was placed 
in a large tub filled with sand. But no one could 
know it was a tub, for it was hung with green cloth 
and stood on a rich, bright carpet. Oh, how the 
tree shook! What was to happen next? 

Some young ladies, helped by servants, began 
to deck him. On some branches they hung little 
nets, cut out of pretty paper, every net filled with 
sugar plums. From others gilded apples and walnuts 
were hung, looking just as if they had grown there. 
And hundreds of little wax tapers, red, blue, and 
white, were placed here and there among the branches. 


THE FIR TREE 


283 

Dolls that looked almost like men and women— 
the Tree had never seen such things before—seemed 
dancing to and fro among the leaves, and high up, 
on the top of the tree, was tied a large star of gold 
tinsel. This was indeed beautiful, beautiful beyond 
anything the Tree had ever seen. 

“This evening,” they said, “it will be lighted up.” 

“I wish it was evening,” thought the Tree. “I 
wish that the lights were kindled, for then—-what will 
happen then? Will the trees come out of the forest 
to see me? Will the sparrows fly here and look in 
through the windows? Shall I stand here decked 
both winter and summer?” 

All at once, the doors were flung open, and a 
troop of children rushed in as if they had a mind to 
jump over him. The older people came after more 
quietly. 

The little ones stood silent, but only for a moment., 
Then they shouted with joy till the room rang again. 
They danced round the Tree, and one present after 
another was torn down. 

“What are they doing?” thought the Tree. “What 
will happen now?” The candles burnt down to the 
branches, and as each burnt down it was put out. 
The children were given leave to strip the Tree. 
They threw themselves on him till all his branches 
creaked. If he had not been tied with the gold 
star to the roof he would have been overturned. 

The children danced about with their beautiful 
playthings. No one but the old nurse thought of 
the Tree any more. She came and peeped among 
the branches, but it was only to see if by chance a 
fig or an apple had been left among them. 

“A story! a story!” cried the children, pulling a 


284 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


little, fat man toward the Tree. “It is pleasant 
to sit under the shade of green branches,” said 
he, sitting down. “Besides, the Tree may want to 
hear my story/'’ 

The little, fat man told the story of Humpty 
Dumpty who fell downstairs, and yet came to the 
throne and won the Princess. 

The Fir Tree in the meantime stood quite silent 
and thinking to himself. The birds in the forest 
had never told him any story like this. 

“Who knows but I, too, may fall downstairs and 
win a Princess?” And he thought with joy of being 
next day decked out with candles and playthings, 
gold and fruit. And the Tree thought about this 
all night. 

Winter in a Garret 

In the morning the maids came in. “Now begins 
my state anew!” thought the Tree. But they 
dragged him out of the room, up the stairs, and 
into a garret, and there pushed him into a dark 
corner where not a ray of light could enter. 

“What can be the meaning of this?” thought the 
Tree. “What am I to do here? What shall I hear 
in this place?” And he leant against the wall, and 
thought, and thought. 

“It is now winter,” thought the Tree. “The 
ground is hard and covered with snow. They cannot 
plant me now, so I am to stay here in shelter till 
the spring. Men are so thoughtful! I only wish it 
were not so dark and so lonely!” 

“Squeak! squeak!” cried a little mouse, just 
then coming forward. Another came after it. They 
snuffed about the Fir Tree, and then slipped in and 
out among the branches. 


THE FIR TREE 


285 


“It is very cold,” said a little mouse, “or it would 
be quite nice up here. Don’t you think so, you old 
Fir Tree?” 

“I am not old,” said the Fir Tree; “there are many 
who are much older than I.” 

“How came you here?” asked the mice; “and what 
do you know?” They seemed to wish to know all 
about everything, and they asked the Fir Tree a 
great many things. “Tell us about the most beauti¬ 
ful place on earth! Have you ever been there? 
Have you been into the storeroom, where cheeses 
lie on the shelves, and hams hang from the roof; 
where one can dance over tallow candles; where 
one goes in thin and comes out fat?” 

“I know nothing about that,” said the Tree, “but 
I know the forest, where the sun shines and where 
the birds sing.” And then he spoke of his youth and 
its joys. They listened very closely, and said: “Well, 
to be sure, how much you have seen! How happy 
you have been!” 

“Happy!” said the Fir Tree in surprise, and he 
thought a moment over all that he had been saying. 
“Yes, on the whole those were joyful times.” He 
then told them about the Christmas Eve when he 
had been dressed up with cakes and candles. 

“Oh,” cried the little mouse, “how happy you have 
been, you old Fir Tree!” 

“I am not old at all!” said the Fir. “It was only 
this winter that I left the forest. I am just at the 
best time of life.” 

“How well you can talk!” said the little mouse; 
and the next night they came again, and brought 
with them four other little mice, who wanted also to 
hear the Tree’s history. And the more the Tree 


286 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


spoke of his youth in the forest, the more clearly he 
remembered it. 

“Yes,” said he, “those were happy times! But 
they may come back, they may come back! Humpty 
Dumpty fell downstairs, and yet for all that he won 
the Princess. Perhaps I, too, may win a Princess.” 

The Fir Tree Remembers Happy Days 

The mice never came again. The Tree sighed. 
“It was nice when those busy little mice sat round me, 
listening to my words. Now that, too, is past. 
However, I shall have joy in remembering it, when 
I am taken from this place.” 

But when would that be? One morning people 
came and cleared out the lumber room. The trunks 
were taken away. The Tree, too, was dragged out 
of the corner. They threw him on the floor; but one 
of the servants picked him up and carried him 
downstairs. Once more he beheld the light of day. 

“Now life begins again!” thought the Tree. He 
felt the fresh air and the warm sunbeams—he was 
out in the yard. All happened so quickly that 
the Tree quite forgot to look at himself, there was so 
much to look at all around. The yard joined a 
garden. Everything was so fresh and blooming. 
The roses were so bright and sweet-smelling. The 
lime trees were in full blossom, and the swallows 
flew backwards and forwards, twittering. 

“I shall live! I shall live!” He was filled with 
joy and hope. He tried to spread out his branches; 
but, alas! they were all dried and yellow. He was 
thrown down on a heap of weeds and nettles. 

The star of gold tinsel that had been left on his 
crown now looked bright in the sunshine. Some 


THE FIR TREE 


287 


children were playing in the yard; they were the 
same children who had danced round the Tree. 
One of the youngest of them saw the gold star, and 
ran to tear it off. 

“Look at this, still tied to the ugly old Christmas 
Tree!” cried he, trampling upon the branches until 
they broke under his feet. 

The Tree looked on the flowers of the garden, now 
blooming in all the freshness of their beauty. He 
looked upon himself, and he wished with all his 
heart that he had been left to wither in the dark 
corner of the lumber room. He called to mind his 
happy forest life and the merry Christmas Eve. 

“Past, all past!” said the poor Tree. “If I had 
but been happy, as I might have been! Past, all 
past! 

The servant came and cut the Tree into small 
pieces. She then heaped them up, and set fire to 
them. The Tree groaned deeply. The children all 
ran up to the place and jumped about in front of 
the blaze. But at each of those heavy groans the 
Fir Tree thought of a bright summer's day, of 
Christmas Eve, or of Humpty Dumpty, the only 
story that he knew and could tell. And at last the 
Tree was burned. 

The boys played about in the yard. On the breast 
of the youngest one shone the golden star that the 
Tree had worn on the happiest evening of his life. 
But that was past, and the Tree was past, and the 
story also, past! past! for all stories must come to 
an end some time or other. 

—Hans Christian Anderson. 


288 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 





















































































































THE BOY SCOUT LAWS 


289 


THE LAWS OF THE BOY SCOUTS 

While the following laws were made especially for the Boy 
Scouts of America, they are excellent rules of conduct for every 
boy and girl in this country. A boy scout promises to obey these 
laws when he takes his scout oath. 

Read these rules over carefully, then close your book and see 
how many of the twelve main headings you can state and also 
how many of them you can explain in detail, 

1. A scout is trustworthy. 

A scout’s honor is to be trusted. If he were to 
violate his honor by telling a lie, or by cheating, or by 
not doing exactly a given task, when trusted on his 
honor, he may be directed to hand over his scout 
badge. 

2. A scout is loyal. 

He is loyal to all to whom loyalty is due; his scout 
leader, his home, and parents and country. 

3. A scout is helpful. 

He must be prepared at any time to save life, help 
injured persons, and share the home duties. He 
must do at least one good turn to somebody every day. 

4. A scout is friendly. 

He is a friend to all and a brother to every other 
scout. 


5. A scout is courteous. 

He is polite to all, especially to women, children, 
old people, and the weak and helpless. He must 
not take pay for being helpful or courteous. 


290 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


6. A scout is kind. 

He is a friend to animals. He will not kill or 
hurt any living creature needlessly, but will strive 
to save and protect all harmless life. 

7. A scout is obedient. 

He obeys his parents, scout master, patrol leader, 
and all other duly constituted authorities. 

8. A scout is cheerful. 

He smiles whenever he can. His obedience to 
orders is prompt and cheery. He never shirks or 
grumbles at hardships. 

9. A scout is thrifty. 

He does not wantonly destroy property. He works 
faithfully, wastes nothing, and makes the best use of 
his opportunities. He saves his money so that he 
may pay his own way, be generous to those in need, 
and helpful to worthy objects. 

He may work for pay , but must not receive tips for 
courtesies or good turns . 

10. A scout is brave. 

He has the courage to face danger in spite of fear, 
and to stand up for the right against the coaxings 
of friends or the jeers or threats of enemies, and defeat 
does not down him. 

11. A scout is clean. 

He keeps clean in body and thought, stands for 
clean speech, clean sport, clean habits, and travels 
with a clean crowd. 

12. A scout is reverent. 

He is reverent toward God. He is faithful in his 
religious duties, and respects the convictions of others 
in matters of custom and religion. 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


291 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 

In the second scout law a scout promises to help injured 
persons. In order to do this he must study the proper methods 
to use in case of injuries. The following extracts are taken 
from the Handbook for Boys, published by the Boy Scouts of 
America. 

At the end of this subject questions will be asked about the 
proper way to treat various injuries. Read this article carefully 
so that you may be able not only to answer these questions but 
also to apply this information in case of need. 

General Directions for First Aid 

Keep cool. There is no cause for excitement or 
hurry. In not one case in a thousand are the few 
moments necessary to find out what is the matter 
with an injured man going to result in any harm to 
him, and of course in order to treat him intelligently 
you must first know what is the matter. Common 
sense will tell the scout that he must waste no time, 
however, when there is severe bleeding, or in case 
of poisoning. 

Aways send for a doctor, unless the injury is very 
trivial. Don't wait until he arrives, however, to 
act. A crowd should always be kept back and 
tight clothing should be loosened. If the patient's 
face is pale, place him on his back with his head low. 
If his face is flushed, fold your coat and put it under 
his head so as to raise it slightly. 

In cases of vomiting, place the patient on his side. 
Do not give an unconscious person a stimulant, or 
anything else to drink, as he cannot swallow, and 
it will run down his windpipe and choke him. 

Do not attempt to investigate further or expose a 
wound needlessly if a doctor can be obtained without 


292 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


extreme delay,unless there is very evident danger of 
sudden death from the accident because of such 
cases as excessive bleeding, electric shock, etc. Other¬ 
wise you may do much more harm than good. Un¬ 
skilled handling of a wound may infect (poison) it 
and it will take far longer to get well. So ordinarily 
limit yourself to protecting the patient from harm 
as directed above. This includes covering the wound 
with sterile dressings to prevent infection. When 
there is danger of sudden death, it is necessary to 
do more. If the injury is covered by clothing, remove 
it by cutting or tearing, but never remove more 
clothing than necessary, as one of the results of injury 
is for a person to feel cold. Shoes and boots should 
be cut in severe injuries about the feet. 

Shock 

Shock frequently occurs even after minor injuries, 
either directly following or shortly after an accident. 
The usual symptoms are pallor, feeble pulse, cold 
hands, drowsiness, or actual unconsciousness. In 
severe shock the person is completely unconscious or 
he may be only slightly confused and feel weak and 
uncertain of what has happened. 

In shock aways send for a doctor when you can. 
Before he comes,warm and stimulate the patient in 
every possible way, using blankets, hot water bottles, 
hot bricks, etc., where possible. Place the patient 
on his back with his head low and cover him with 
your coat or a blanket. Rub his arms and legs toward 
his body without uncovering it. If you have am¬ 
monia or smelling salts, place them before the 
patient's nose so he may breathe them. 

This is all you can do when unconsciousness is 
complete. When the patient begins to recover a 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


2 93 


little, however, and as soon as he can swallow 
give him hot tea or coffee, or a half teaspoonful of 
aromatic spirits of ammonia in a quarter glass of 
water. 

Warning: Remember always that a person with 
shock may have some other serious injuries. These 
you should always look for and treat if necessary. 

Never give stimulants when there is bad bleeding. 
They only make it worse. Keep the patient warm 
and quiet. 

Injuries in Which the Skin is Not Broken—Fractures. 

A fracture is the same thing as a broken bone. 
When the bone pierces or breaks through the skin, it 
is called a compound fracture, and when it does not , 
a simple fracture. A fracture does not begin to knit 
for a week, so there is often no need to set it at once 
except for special reasons, such as to relieve pain, 
prevent danger, etc. 

A scout is in the country with a comrade. The 
latter mounts a stone wall to cross it. The wall falls 
with him and he calls out for help. When the other 
scout reaches him, he finds the injured scout lying 
flat on the ground, with both legs stretched out. One 
of these does not look quite natural, and the scout 
complains of a great deal of pain at the middle of the 
thigh and thinks he felt something break when he 
fell. He cannot raise the injured leg. 

If you suspect that the bone is broken, it is far 
safer to act on that assumption. Send for a doctor. 
Remember that the ends of a broken bone are sharp 
and any movement may cause an end to go through 
the skin, which would make the fracture compound, 
which is a far more dangerous condition than a simple 
fracture. So don’t investigate or let your comrade 


294 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


move, but just make him comfortable, lying down, 
putting stones or coats along the injured part so it 
will not move, and wait for the doctor. If it is 
absolutely necessary, for any reason, to move him 
before the doctor comes, you will have to do more. 
Carefully rip the trousers and the underclothing at 
the seam to above the painful point. When you have 
done this, the deformity will indicate the location of 
the fracture. You must be very gentle now or you 
will do harm. 

Do not try to move the bones to make sure if 
there is a break. If the limb is bent at any place, it 
will have to be straightened, so that the splints can 
be put on. Grasp the limb firmly with one hand 
above the bend and with the other hand below it, 
very gently draw the injured limb into position 
like the sound one and hold it there by splints. 
Splints can be made of anything that is stiff and rigid. 
Something fiat like a board is better than a pole or 
staff; limbs broken off a tree will do if nothing else 
can be found. Shingles make excellent splints. 
In applying splints remember that they should extend 
beyond the next joint above and the next joint below; 
otherwise, movements of the joint will cause move¬ 
ment at the broken point. You must put them so 
that the broken bones cannot move at all. This means 
that they must be wide enough, long enough and snug 
enough. In fact, they must fit well. With a fracture 
of the thigh, such as that described, the outer splint 
should be a very long one, extending below the feet 
from the arm pit. A short one, extending just below 
the knee will do for the inner splint. Splints may be 
tied on with handerchiefs, pieces of cloth torn from the 
clothing, or the like. Tie firmly, but not tight enough 
to cause severe pain or cut off circulation. 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


295 



Temporary splints for broken leg. 

In a fracture of the thigh it will also be well to 
bind the injured leg to the sound one by two or three 
pieces of cloth around both. The clothing put back 
in place will serve as padding under the splint, but 
with thin summer clothing it is better to use straw, 
hay, or leaves in addition. 

Fractures of the lower leg and of the upper and 
lower arm are treated in the same way with a splint 
on the inner and outer sides of the broken bone. A 
sling will be required for a fracture of the arm. This 
may be made of the triangular bandage, or of a 
triangular piece of cloth torn from your shirt. 

Compound Fractures 

The edges of a broken bone are very sharp and may 
cut through the skin at the time of an injury, but 
more often afterward; if the injured person moves 
about or if the splints are not well applied so as to 
prevent movement at the point where the bone is 
broken. If a compound fracture has occurred, the 
wound produced by the sharp bone must always be 
treated first. The treatment is the same for any 
other wound. 

Warning : You will not always be able to tell 













296 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


whether or not a fracture has occurred. In this 
case do not pull and haul the limb about to make ' 
sure, but treat as a fracture. There will always be a 
considerable amount of shock with fracture and this 
must also be treated. 


Bruises 

A bruise is an injury to the deep tissues where 
the skin is not broken. A slight bruise needs no 
treatment. For a severe one, apply very hot or 
very cold water to prevent pain and swelling. 

Sprains 

A scout slips and twists his ankle and immediately 
suffers severe pain. In a little while the ankle 
begins to swell. 

Call a doctor always unless you are sure the injury 
is very slight. With many sprains there is also a chip¬ 
ping or slight break of a bone. These heal badly un¬ 
less given skillful treatment. Always begin treatment 
at once whether doctor has been called or not. Absolute 
rest is required in order not to do more damage*by- 
rubbing of the injured joint surfaces together. This 
means that the patient should not be allowed to 
move the joint or to step on it. Elevate joint when 
possible and apply heat or cold. Less blood will 
come to the injured joint if it is elevated and heat 
or cold contracts the vessels and thus limits the escape 
of blood and serum. Cold may be applied in the form 
of snow or crushed ice in a cloth. It is usually better 
to use cloths wrung out in very hot or very cold water 
or to shower the joint with very hot or cold water. 
Putting the sprained joint under a cold or hot water 
tap is also excellent. Either heat or cold should be 
made use of sufficiently long to get full benefit from 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


297 

it, that is to say, for some hours. At first on the 
application of either heat or cold, the pain may 
increase, but after an hour, at the latest, it will 
lessen and will finally disappear. Remember there 
may be shock and, if so, treat. 

Dislocation 

A dislocation is an injury where the head of a 
bone has slipped out of its socket at a joint. A scout 
is playing football. He suddenly feels as though his 
shoulder has been twisted out of place. Comparison 
with the other side will show that the injured shoulder 
does not look like the other one, being longer, or 
shorter, and contrary to the case with a fracture 
there will not be increased movement at the point of 
injury but a lessened movement. Do not attempt to 
get a dislocated joint back in place. Cover the joint 
with cloths wrung out in very hot or very cold water, 
and get the patient into the hands of a doctor as 
soon as possible. Dislocations of the thumb or base 
joints of the fingers are not such simple things as 
most people believe. Special skill is required to 
reduce them. Unskilled efforts can easily complicate 
matters so that an actual operation is needed to 
put bones and tendons (sinews) in their proper 
place. So leave them for the doctor to reduce. 

Injuries in Which the Skin is Broken 

Such injuries are called wounds. There is one 
very important fact which must be remembered in 
connection with such injuries. Any injury in which 
the skin is unbroken is much less dangerous, as the 
skin prevents germs from reaching the injured part. 
The principle to be followed in treating a wound is to 
apply something to prevent germs from reaching the 
injury. 


298 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


All wounds unless protected from germs are very 
likely to become infected. Blood poisoning and even 
death may result from infection. To prevent 
infection of wounds, the scout should cover them 
properly with what is called a sterilized dressing. 
This is a surgical dressing which has been so treated 
that it is free from germs. A number of dressings are 
on the market and can be procured in drug stores. 
In using them be very careful not to touch the surface 
of the dressing which is to be placed in contact with 
the wound. The Red Cross First Aid Dressing is so 
made that this accident is almost impossible if direc¬ 
tions are followed carefully. You should practice 
opening dressings and putting them on properly, so 
that you will know how when there is need. In 
taking care of a wound do not handle it or do any¬ 
thing else to it. Nobody's hands, though they may 
appear to be perfectly clean, are so in the sense of 
being free from germs; nor is water, so a wound 
should never be washed. Before doing anything to a 
wound you should wash your hands most carefully 
and clean the finger nails. 

It would be a good thing for a scout always, to 
carry a Red Cross First Aid Outfit, or some similar 
outfit, for with this he is ready to take care of 
almost any injury; without it he will find it very 
difficult to improvise anything to cover a wound 
with safety to the injured person. If no prepared 
dressing is procurable, boil a towel if possible for 
fifteen minutes, squeeze the water out of it without 
touching the inner surface and apply that to the 
wound. The next best dressing, if you cannot prepare 
this, will be a towel or handkerchief which has been 
recently washed and has not been used or unfolded. 
Open it out carefully and apply a fresh side, without 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 2 99 

touching it, to the wound. These should be held in 
place on the wound with a bandage. Do not be 
afraid to leave a wound exposed to the air; germs do 
not float around in the air and such exposure is much 
safer than water or any dressing which is not free 
from germs. If you bind up a wound with a towel 
not boiled or a piece of cotton torn from your shirt, 
you are likely to cause a great deal of harm to the 
injured person from infection. However, there are 
times when, in order to stop hemorrhage, it may be 
necessary to use the best available dressing tempor¬ 
arily. 

Wounds Without Severe Bleeding 

These constitute the majority of all wounds. Use 
the Red Cross Outfit as described in the slip con¬ 
tained in the outfit. The pressure of a compress 
(pad) under a bandage will stop most bleeding if 
firmly bound into place. 

Wounds With Severe Bleeding 

A scout must be prepared to check severe bleed¬ 
ing at once and he should then dress the wound. 
Bleeding from an artery is by far the most dangerous. 

With wounds the bleeding never comes entirely 
from either arteries or veins, but is mixed from both, 
though there may be more of one than the other. It 
is impossible to distinguish between them by color. 
In fact, the difference between blood just come from 
arteries and that from veins contrary to popular 
belief, is no greater than the difference between 
scarlet and crimson. This difference disappears when 
they are mixed. Blood coming from a vein flows in 
a steady stream. Bleeding from the smallest veins and 
arteries and from the capillaries (minute vessels 


300 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


which connect them) have no special distinguishing 
characteristics. Most bleeding of any sort can be 
controlled by bandaging a pad or compress firmly 
over the wound. A great help in bad bleeding is to 
lift the bleeding part as high as possible. It is only 
in rare cases that more is necessary. Then you will 
have to press on the artery itself. 

As the course of the blood in an artery is away from 
the heart, pressure must be applied on the heart side 
just as a rubber pipe which is cut must be compressed 
on the side from which the water is coming in order 
to prevent leakage at a cut beyond. The scout must 
also know the course of the larger arteries in order 
that he may know where to press on them. 

Unfortunately these pressure points are apt to be 
forgotten, so it is lucky they do not have to be used 
more often. In the arm the course of the large artery 
is down the inner side of the big muscle, in the upper 
arm about in line with the seam of the coat. The 
artery in the leg runs down from the center of a line 
from the point of the hip to the middle of the crotch, 
and is about in line with the inseam of the trousers. 
Pressure should be applied about three inches below 
the crotch. In making pressure on either of these 
arteries, use the fingers and press back against the 
bone. You can often feel the artery beat under your 
fingers, and the bleeding below will stop when you 
have your pressure properly made. Of course you 
cannot keep up the pressure with your fingers in this 
way as they become tired after a few minutes. There¬ 
fore, while you are doing this, have some other scout 
prepare a tourniquet. The simplest form of tourni¬ 
quet is a handkerchief tied loosely about the limb. 

Put a stick about a foot long under the hand¬ 
kerchief at the outer side of the limb and twist it 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


301 


around until it is so tight that the bleeding has 
practically stopped. Tie the stick in position so it 
will not untwist. Unless the tourniquet is tight 
enough to stop the flow of blood in the arteries, its 
use only makes bleeding worse. If not tight enough, 
it allows blood to flow into the limb but compresses 
the veins so the blood cannot get back into the 
body. Therefore all the blood flows out of the wound. 
Cutting of such a tourniquet will often stop bleeding. 
Tourniquets are rarely needed except for operations 
or very severe injuries such as the traumatic amputa¬ 
tion of the leg. 

Warning: When using a tourniquet, remember 
that cutting off* the circulation for a long time is 
dangerous. It is much safer not to keep on a tourni¬ 
quet more than half an hour. Loosen it, but be ready 
to tighten it again quickly if bleeding recommences. 

Another method to stop bleeding from an artery 
when the wound is below the knee or elbow is to 
place a pad in the bend of the joint and double the 
limb back over it, holding the pad in tightly. Tie 
the arm or leg in this position. If these means do 
not check the bleeding put a pad into the wound and 
press on it there. If you have no dressing and blood 
is being lost very rapidly, make pressure in the wound 
with your fingers. Remember, however, that this 
should only be resorted to in the case of absolute 
necessity to save life, as it will infect the wound. 

Blood from veins flows in a steady stream back 
toward the heart. In most cases of cut veins a pad 
firmly bandaged on the bleeding point will stop the 
bleeding. If one of the large veins in the neck is 
wounded, blood will be lost so rapidly that the injured 
person is in danger of immediate death, so you must 


3°2 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


disregard the danger of infection, and jam your hand 
tightly against the bleeding point. 

Fainting 

Fainting usually occurs in overheated, crowded 
places. The patient is very pale and partially or 
completely unconscious. The pupils of the eye are 
natural, the pulse is weak and rapid. The patient 
should be placed in a lying-down position with the 
head lower than the rest of the body so that the 
brain will receive more blood. Loosen the clothing, 
especially about the neck. Keep the crowd back and 
open the windows if indoors so that the patient 
may get plenty of fresh air. Sprinkle cold water on 
his face, but do not wet his clothes, as it may give 
him a cold. Let him smell ammonia or smelling 
salts. Rub the limbs toward the body. A stimulant 
may be given when the patient is so far recovered 
that he is able to swallow. 

Sunstroke and Heat Exhaustion 

Any one is liable to sunstroke or heat exhaustion 
if exposed to excessive heat. More cases result from 
heat indoors than from that outdoors. A scout 
should remember not to expose himself too much to 
the sun nor should he wear too heavy clothing in 
summer. Leaves in the hat will do much to prevent 
sunstroke. If the scout becomes dizzy and exhausted 
through exposure to the sun he should find a cool 
place, lie down, and bathe the face, hands and chest 
in cold water and drink freely of cold water. 

Sunstroke and heat exhaustion, though due to the 
same cause, are quite different and require different 
treatment. In sunstroke unconsciousness is complete. 
The face is red, pupils large, the skin is very hot 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


3°3 


and dry with no perspiration. The patient sighs and 
the pulse is full and slow. The treatment for sun¬ 
stroke consists in reducing the temperature of the 
body. A doctor should be summoned always. The 
patient should be removed to a cool place and his 
clothing loosened or better the greater part of it 
removed. Cold water, or ice, should be rubbed over 
the face, neck, chest, and in the armpits. When 
consciousness returns, give cold water freely. 

Heat exhaustion is simply exhaustion or collapse 
due to heat. The patient is greatly depressed and 
weak but not usually unconscious. Face is pale 
and covered with clammy sweat, breathing and pulse 
are weak and rigid. While this condition is not 
nearly as dangerous as sunstroke, a doctor should 
be summoned. Remove the patient to a cool place 
and have him always lie down with his clothing 
loosened. Don't use anything cold externally, but 
permit him to take small sips of cold water. Stimu¬ 
lants should be given just as in fainting. 

Freezing 

The patient should be taken into a cold room and 
the body should be rubbed with rough cloths wet in 
cold water. The temperature of the room should 
then be increased if possible. This should be done 
gradually and the cloths should be wet in warmer and 
warmer water. As soon as the patient can swallow 
give him stimulants. It will be dangerous to place 
him before an open fire or in a hot bath until he 
begins to recover. You will know this by his skin 
becoming warmer, by his better color, and by his 
generally improved appearance. 


3 ° 4 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Frost-Bite 

Remember that you are in danger of frost-bite if 
you do not wear sufficient clothing in cold weather, 
and that rubbing any part of the body which becomes 
very cold helps to prevent frost-bite, because it brings 
more warm blood to the surface. The danger is 
when, after being cold, the part suddenly has no 
feeling. 

The object of the treatment is gradually to restore 
warmth to the frozen part. To do this the part 
should be rubbed first with snow or cold water; the 
water should be warmed gradually. The use of hot 
water at once would be likely to cause mortification 
of the frozen part. 

Poisoning 

Delay is likely to prove fatal in poisoning so 
whatever is done must be done promptly. Always 
send for a doctor at once but do not wait for his 
arrival. Dilute the poisoning by giving drinks of 
anything harmless that one has on hand such as 
water, milk, tea, soda water, dish water, salt water, 
etc. From two to four glasses or even more may be 
given. Cause vomiting to get rid of poison in 
stomach. If the fluid administered is distasteful 
it will automatically cause vomiting especially after 
having given several glasses of the fluid you tickle 
the back of the throat. Excellent emetics are 
mustard and ipecac, a teaspoonful of either may be 
added to the fluid. After vomiting has occurred, 
give the patient warm water. 

Burns and Scalds 

For slight burns in order to relieve the pain some 
dressing to exclude the air is needed. Very good 


FIRST AID FOR INJURIES 


3°5 


substances of this character are pastes made with 
water and baking soda, starch, or flour. Carbolized 
“Vaseline” olive or castor oil, and fresh lard or 
cream are all good. One of these substances should 
be smeared over a thin piece of cloth and placed on 
the burned part. Probably the best dressing is 
Picric Acid Gauze, which is supplied by the Red 
Cross. It is moistened with water or better still by 
holding it in front of a steaming kettle spout. A 
bandage should be put over this to hold the dressing 
in place and for additional protection. 

Severe burns and scalds are very serious injuries 
which require treatment from a physician. Pending 
his arrival the scout should remember to treat the 
sufferer for shock as well as to dress the wound. 

Burns from electricity should be treated exactly 
like other burns. 

Do not attempt to remove clothing which sticks 
to a burn; cut the cloth around the part which 
sticks and leave it on the burn 

Fits 

A person in a fit first has convulsive movements of 
the body, then he usually becomes unconscious. A 
scout should have no difficulty in making out what is 
the matter with person in a fit. 

Put the sufferer on the floor or the ground where 
he cannot hurt himself by striking anything forcibly. 
Loosen tight clothing and do not try to restrain the 
convulsive movements. A wad of cloth thrust in 
the mouth will prevent biting the tongue. When he 
becomes quiet do not disturb him. 

Courtesy Boy Scouts of America, 

Used with the permission of the National Council , Boy 
Scouts of America, from its Handbook for Boys. 


3°6 


COLUMBIA SIXTH READER 


Review Questions of First Aid 

1. What is shock? How should you treat a person for 
shock? 

2. What is the difference between a simple and a compound 
fracture? Which is the more dangerous? 

3. Why must extreme care be used in the case of a simple 
fracture? 

4. Show how you would put temporary splints on a broken 
forearm. 

5. What treatment should be given a severe bruise? 

6 . Describe the treatment for a sprain. 

7. Tell how to render first aid in a dislocation. 

8. How should a wound be treated ? Why is care necessary 
in dressing a wound? 

9. What is the difference between an artery and a vein? 
How could you tell which had been cut? Locate the large 
arteries in the arms and legs. 

10. Tell how to render first aid in the case of a large artery 
or a vein being cut. 

11. What should be done in a case of fainting. 

12. Explain the difference in the appearance of the patient 
in sunstroke and heat exhaustion. Describe the treatment to 
be used in each case. 

13. How would you treat a frozen ear or nose? 

14. What should be done in a poisoning case? 

15. Tell how to treat slight burns. What should be done in 
the case of severe burns? 

16. How does a person act when he has fits? How would 
you handle a person having fits? 











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